


Never Alone

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Fourth Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2006-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Undying Friendship Series.</strong> Year 29, Fourth Age. The Elvenking's Halls are abandoned, and Legolas, alone with his grief, finds a mysterious child in the woods. But all is not as it seems, and it could cost his life. It will certainly change him forever. Will Aragorn and Gimli find him in time to help him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Author's Note:** I originally wrote this story several years ago. I took it down in order to edit it to make it more believable as it was one of my weakest stories. I think it's much better now and certainly is easier to understand the timeline and continuity of the Undying Friendship Series. I'll try to post a chapter a week.

There are several aspects of this story which you may consider AU. For the most part, I try to stick to canon, but I have tried to throw in a few twists which I think can be considered inspired by and in keeping with canon though not directly in canon (if that makes sense).

**Never Alone**

_**By Nieriel Raina** _

**Prologue**

_**Eryn Lasgalen** _

_**1 Gwirith, Year 29 F.A.** _

The rain poured down upon the earth and newly green trees, driven in sheets by gusts of wind, drenching the elf standing motionless before the bridge that spanned the river. Beyond, along the opposite bank, stands of beech lined the path leading away from him.

Lightning flashed, followed by the crack of thunder, yet he stood silent and unmoving, as he had since the last of his kin had ridden away from this place.

That had been hours ago, and the sudden storm hailed the coming of darkness.

Salty streams from once bright grey eyes mixed with the rain, flowing down his fair face in rivulets. His brilliant gold tresses, now dulled with the soaking downpour, hung in disarray around his shoulders, twisted and matted by the rain and wind. He paid it no mind.

He simply stood, alone in the rain, in a land that would never be home again.

Minutes passed. Or it could have been hours; he had no concept of time in the rain. Unable to bear the empty sight of the bridge any longer, he let his gaze slowly travel over the many trees that had been his friends since he had been old enough to walk amongst them. It was very likely they might never see an elf again or hear elven songs, for once he had departed this place, he would never return again.

It would become a ruin, a place of legend, myth, and ghost stories to the Men in the surrounding lands.

He had not thought his people would ever leave this place. Of if they did, it would be long after he had sailed West.

Yet, it had happened. They were all gone, and he was alone in what had been his home for all the years of his life.

A piercing pain shot through his heart, and he gasped out loud, pressing a long fingered hand to his chest. He had never liked saying farewell, and this time it was almost unbearable. He could not do this, did not wish to! And yet, he must.

His head lowered in grief.

He should never have come to say goodbye alone, but he had not wanted any of his friends to see him like this…as he knew he would be. Shaking his head, he turned to face the stone gates that led into his beloved halls – now empty of all who had once filled them.

Unable to bring himself to enter those silent depths just yet, he sat against one of the pillars, dropped his head into his hands, and Legolas wept.

Notes:

_Gwirith_ \- Sindarin for the what we know roughly as the month of April. Means "new/young/budding"


	2. One: Great Change

**One**

_One Year Earlier..._

_Ithilien, near Ascarnen_

_9 Gwirith,_ _Year 28 F.A._

The early afternoon sun filtered through the new green leaves, dappling the ground with rays of gold. A soft wind rustled the leaves. Colorful birds chirped and sang as they twitted about, foraging for insects and seeds. A pair of bright-eyed squirrels chased one another through the branches, darting this way and that. An item of curiosity caused the smaller gray in the lead slide to a sudden stop, while its red playmate, unable to stop in time, slid into him, chattering angrily. The gray did not respond, but sat frozen, just its nose twitching towards the person lying supine along the branch before it. The elf was harmless to him, and the squirrel knew it, but it still darted away with its partner when the elf began to move.

Aware that he had been observed so curiously but ignoring the usually amusing antics of the squirrels, Legolas shifted slightly on the branch where he was lying, angling his face away from the bright sunlight which had broken through the leaves above him. He settled back into a comfortable position, allowing his eyes to slip back to their half lidded state as he attempted to find his way back into elusive elven dreams.

A horn blast pierced the air, breaking the peaceful stillness of the forest, and Legolas's eyes snapped back open. He sat up on his branch, annoyed at the disturbance. He had been haunted by frequent images of the sea, allowing him little rest over the past many weeks. Legolas coveted the chance to catch what rest he could during the day, especially when the gulls were farther south and the sea did not pull so strongly at his heart. In the night, with the stars adding their shimmering song, the sea's call was nearly unbearable.

Irritated, he turned towards the sound of approaching horses and rose to the balls of his feet, balancing lightly upon the branch. Out of long ingrained habit, he reached for his weapons hanging on the branch beside him.

As a group of horses came into view, partially concealed by the lower branches of the large trees, Legolas called out, "Halt! What business have you in Ithilien?"

But it was a familiar voice that responded cheerfully from the middle of the group.

"Legolas? Come down from there! Is that any way to greet your father?"

His eyes widened in shock, then a huge grin spread across his face as he dropped to the ground as the group of ten mounted guards became clearly visible as they rode into a slight clearing. And from their midst rode forth King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen towards his youngest son, eyes sparkling as he dismounted.

" _Adar_!" Legolas was quickly pulled into a huge embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you wish for me to leave?" Thranduil laughed.

Legolas shook his head and poked his father's shoulder playfully. "Nay, but you could have sent word that you were coming to visit!" When a shadow darkened his father's eyes, Legolas sobered. "What is it, _Adar_? Has something happened?"

Thranduil shook his head, but the shadow remained. "All is well…mostly." He sighed. "There are things we must discuss, Legolas, and I believe in private would be best."

Legolas nodded and joined the group as they continued on towards the settlement of _Ascarnen_.

— ~ —

"Your siblings and I are sailing West."

Legolas sat in stunned silence, watching his father pace the room, distressed by Thranduil's announcement.

They had ridden swiftly to _Ascarnen_ , where the king's guards were given quarters. Then once everyone was settled, father and son had moved Legolas's _talan_. They had sat and talked casually for a time, exchanging stories of what had happened since last they had seen one another. Legolas soaked up the news of his old home and family, his siblings in particular. He had not seen any of them in over two years.

But after a time, they had fallen silent. Legolas had felt the growing tension and knew in his gut that the things his father had come to say would be difficult to hear.

But he had never expected to hear his father say those words.

Legolas sat speechless and listened to Thranduil explain the discontent among their blended people. With the Shadow of Sauron and the fall of Dol Guldur, the Silvan people wished to return to their beloved mountains farther south. They had no wish to mingle with other races, but would fade into the hillsides and dales.

The Sindar, however long they had lived alongside and as one with their simpler kin, had grown restless. The call of the sea had not limited itself to Legolas alone. Most wished to depart.

Once the shock started to dissipate, an intense pain began to rise in Legolas's heart. This was not what he had expected, not the path he had seen his family taking. No, it was _he_ that was to take his leave of them and ride away. It had hurt to think of leaving his family, but the opposite was unthinkable, unbearable.

"Legolas," Thranduil turned and met Legolas's gaze. "If I were not king, I would not go, but it is my duty to lead our people. Know I would stay with you as long as you remain if only I were able, if duty did not bind me…" Thranduil's voice broke. "I feel I am abandoning you," he finished in a hushed tone.

Legolas shook his head. "Never would you abandon your people, myself included, _Adar_. You are correct; you are duty bound to lead them, even into the West – but why now? What has brought this removing to the West so suddenly among our kin? The sea did not awaken within me until I heard the gulls, but they do not travel that far north."

Legolas searched his father's eyes, desperate for some way to keep his people and family where he had always known them to be. To consider the Halls of the Elvenking empty and crumbling was unthinkable. But he found no hope in that gaze and turned away.

"I do not know, Legolas. I cannot explain it other than that they have grown weary. The long battle against Sauron's darkness held them there, gave them purpose, but with Sauron destroyed…" He released a frustrated breath. "With the fall of Dol Guldur, something changed. Those who fled Doriath have begun to be afflicted with a strong desire for the sea and the Blessed Realm. It is not the same as what I see in you, not as strong, but no less compulsive. Some, perhaps hear the call, if faintly, and their families will not allow their loved ones to leave alone. But it is more an unrest, a feeling we do not belong to this world any longer. I feel it myself."

Legolas's eyes widened. His father had always been dedicated to holding Oropher's kingdom, to living as elves were always meant to live, to defending and protecting the forest they called home.

"The wood itself embraces the Men and welcomes them into its domain. I do not understand it, unless it is as Elrond says: this is the Age of Men."

Legolas understood that. He had seen it in his travels and his friendships with mortals. The older races endured, mingled and cohabitated, but their numbers dwindled. The Fourth Age of the world would bring great change. "I agree, but that does not mean we must leave. Not all of us."

"And the Silvans will stay having never truly answered the Call. Most of my father's people and their families will sail," Thranduil continued. "But there are some who will remain. It is their desire to relocate either here in Ithilien or to Imladris."

"They will be welcome here," Legolas agreed.

"If any of your own people desire to sail, they are welcome to travel with us."

Legolas heard the unspoken request in that statement, but refused to acknowledge it. He had made his choice to remain when the sea longing had first come upon him, and family or no family, Legolas would stay.

Thranduil paused a moment, to take a deep breath. "And so the Sindar will depart and the Silvan folk will resettle in the Mountains and fade into memory. They no longer have need of a king." He sank into a chair across from Legolas. "I am sorry, little one. Truly, I am. It is not what I expected either."

Legolas cleared his throat. "I did not know we still distinguished between our kindreds."

"Neither did I," Thranduil replied, making no effort to mask his pain.

"When?"

"In one year's time. We leave in the spring. It will be a time of new beginnings for our people. Many of the Silvan even now relocate. By Spring, I suspect most will be gone from the northern realm."

Legolas's eyes drifted to the window and the green leaves fluttering on the branches outside. His heart ached within him at these tidings. There was so little time to say goodbye, and too much time that he must yet remain. The one thing he had counted on having during his self-enforced lingering as he fought the sea longing was his family. Although he rarely saw them, just knowing they were there gave him strength.

But now he would lose them.

"I would have you come home, Legolas."

Legolas's head snapped up at that announcement, and he saw his father wince.

"Just for a time," Thranduil clarified.

He met his father's gaze with astonishment, realizing that Thranduil was not going to outright ask the painful and dreaded question Legolas had feared he might. Or worse, demand his obeisance.

It was with a true, compassionate tone his father said, "I dare not hope you will change your mind and come along, for I know your heart and promises. But I _will_ ask you to come home for this year. For your sake as well as ours."

That request, stated in such a manner, decided Legolas in an instant. That Thranduil would not ask or even attempt to persuade, but would respect Legolas's choice to remain until Aragorn's passing spoke volumes.

A sad, slow smile tilted Legolas's lips, and he nodded in agreement. "I will announce these tidings this evening, and seek out any who would wish to sail with you. We will depart as soon as arrangements can be made, and I will stay in Eryn Lasgalen until you go. I also would have these last months with my family."

Legolas made no attempt to stop the sudden drip of tears that trickled down his cheeks. They were quickly brushed away by his father's fingers.

— ~ —

In early summer, a small group of elves made their way north to Eryn Lasgalen. The following spring, the Sindar of Eryn Lasgalen departed for the West.

As they crossed the bridge and rode down the path, the trees whispered farewells to all save one.

Only Legolas remained at the gates of the Elvenking's Halls, now empty of life and all he had known.

— ~ —

_Notes:_

_Adar -_ father

_Gwirith_ \- Sindarin term for what we know roughly as the month of April. Means "New/young/budding"

_Ascarnen_ _(_ AHS-kar-nehn _)_ is the elven settlement given to Legolas's rule by King Elessar in my Undying Friendship Series. The name means 'rushing water' and the settlement is named for the large, rocky stream nearby.

_Eryn Lasgalen_ is the wood previously known as Greenwood the Great and Mirkwood. Renamed after the fall of Sauron and split between Thranduil, Celeborn and the Beornings and Woodsmen.

It is my own interpretation that the elves of Sindar descent would wish to sail so soon after the fall of Sauron, and that the Silvan folk would remove to the Mountains in the middle of the Wood.


	3. Two: Determined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that elves did not use nicknames as I have used them. Please consider this AU if it so pleases you.

**Two**

__**Northwest of the Elven King's halls, Eryn Lasgalen  
15 Narbeleth Year 28 Fourth Age** ****  
  
"Caeri, you can not stay here alone! That is simply not possible, child." Besoneth was indignant. She had made it clear she was not going to allow her closest friend's daughter do something so foolish.

Lancaeriel lowered her head, but her chin retained a firmness that was lost on Besoneth. "I do not wish to leave my home," she whispered, tears blurring her vision.

Besoneth used a finger to lift Lancaeriel's chin, and she smiled sadly at her. "I know you do not wish to leave, Caeri, but you cannot stay here alone. Everyone is leaving. Everyone! Even that stubborn Elvenking and his kin. You have a choice to make, child, but staying here is unacceptable. Come with us to the Mountains, or go West and find your family, if that is what you wish. But you cannot stay here. I cannot allow it."

Lancaeriel was silent for several minutes. Wetness dampened her lashes, but she did not allow the tears to fall. She swallowed them back, a firm resolve filling her even as she turned and fled from the talan. She moved quickly northwest until she reached a stand of tall birch near a small, flowing stream.

There Lancaeriel lowered herself to the ground and wept as she had not done since her brother had been killed, some thirty years ago. When she had cried all her tears, she slowly sat up, brushed her mahogany hair from her face, and hugged her knees to her chest.

How could so many things in her life have gone so wrong? Lancaeriel had once been a happy, outgoing youth with many friends. Now, she kept mostly to herself, avoiding old friends or emotional attachments. It was easier that way, less painful.

She had barely been of age when her father had been killed by orcs. It had been brutal, and she had not even been permitted to see his body. He, who had been her hero, the one who had taught her about the forest and the animals she loved. He had helped her hear the trees, understand them! She had been his constant shadow, following him as he hunted or gathered, learning the way of the forest.

And then one day he was gone.

He had requested she remain at home with her mother to help with the sewing of new winter cloaks. He had gone alone, deeper into the woods to the south than he usually went. A patrol had found him, at least what was left of him, and brought the sad news along with his body, wrapped in a cloak.

Her mother had not long survived her father's death, grief slowly fading her will to live. She refused to eat or drink and became unresponsive. She just sat and rocked herself and stared at a spot on the wall of the talan. Then one morning, she simply stopped living.

Lancaeriel had been devastated. While she had been her father's shadow, her mother had been her steadfast rock, always encouraging, teaching and admonishing. To watch her mother fade to a husk of what she had been had been worse than receiving the news of her father's death. At least he had died quickly.

Lancaeriel had clung to her older brother, Anthir, and the two had comforted each other through those first few difficult years. He became her rock, the one she could count on to lift her spirits when it felt as if darkness closed in all around her.

Slowly, life had resumed some resemblance of normal. Her mother's closest friend, Besoneth, had taken them under her wing. Lancaeriel began to socialize with her friends once more, though many had bound themselves to their mates during those years after her parents' deaths and were often too busy with new families to have time to entertain her.

She was even pursued by a few males herself, though she never found one that stole her heart. She waited, knowing eventually the right one would come along. Her mother had always told her that was how it happened. But the right one never showed himself, and so she remained unwed as had her brother.

With Anthir and Besoneth's family, she was not alone in the world, and she filled her days by following Anthir into the woods as she once had her father, helping with the hunting and gathering as well as the sewing and cooking. Life was full, and she was content.

Then her world had crashed again.

Only thirty years ago, when the darkness was at its worst, her brother had been taken from her. Many elves had died in the assault upon Dol Guldur, when King Thranduil and Lord Celeborn had combined their strength and defeated the evil there.

But when the horrible battle was over, Anthir was among the dead.

The loss for Lancaeriel had been almost too much. She retreated into herself and the wood, pulling away from lifelong friends and those who cared for her. Even Besoneth could not draw her from the darkness.

The trees had comforted her. This place where she now sat had become a balm to her wounded spirit. It was home. She could not bring herself to leave, yet she had no choice. Besoneth would make certain that she either sailed West with the Sindar or the older woman would pack her up and make her go south to the mountains.

The thought of sailing West held little appeal to her. There would be no joy for her in Valinor, no peace or comfort, no familiar trees to sing to—no family that cared for her.

She did not believe that the dead could be returned to them. Her people had never seen those shores and many said that the spirits of the woodelves never left the wood of their birth. Lancaeriel had heard one of the Belain would call to the dead, but she feared that which she did not understand, and doubted any elf could truly find comfort with a being that collected dead souls.

No, she would find nothing familiar in the West.

Besoneth loved her, but she was not Lancaeriel's mother. No one could replace all that Lancaeriel had lost. Her withdrawal into the wood had cost her the friends she once had. None of them could chase away the darkness or fill the hole left in her heart by Anthir's death.

Only the trees of this forest had brought her any measure of comfort. Her heart was here.

But here Lancaeriel could not stay—and she could not, would not sail. So what other choices did she have?

There was always Imladris. King Thranduil had made it known that the Lords Elladan and Elrohir had opened their realm to any woodelves who wished to live there. That was an option, though an unappealing one.

"Prince Legolas has offered refuge for those not ready to sail…"

The words were spoken in a small voice, startling Lancaeriel, causing her to jump. She turned and discovered a little girl standing not far away. The child was clothed in a simple white dress and had light golden hair that framed her pixie face.

As there were no elflings in her settlement, Lancaeriel reckoned the child belonged to one of the families passing through. Whole villages had packed up and headed south, like a migration of birds fleeing the coldness of winter. Lancaeriel found herself smiling at the adorable child.

The girl smiled back at her shyly before asking, "Will you be my friend?"

Lancaeriel found herself enthralled by this innocent soul. Her heart was touched by the question, and she found herself wanting very much to know this little girl. "I would like very much to be your friend!" she told the child. "What is your name, little one?"

The girl hesitated, looking down at the ground and her toe that was making circles in the grass. She looked back up and answered, "I cannot tell you my real name. I still would like to be your friend, though."

What a strange thing to say. Lancaeriel looked searchingly into the girl's blue eyes. There was a flash of something ominous there that gave her pause, but the next moment it was gone, leaving a dejected elfling standing before her.

"I am very sorry, little one, but I cannot be your friend." The girl's eyes snapped up in surprise, but Lancaeriel continued, "You see, friends need to know how to address each other, so I cannot be your friend if I do not know your name."

The child peered up at her from under her lashes, and smiled softly. "I cannot tell you my real name," she repeated in a mysterious tone, then switched to an impish, "but you may call me Rani. Will that work? Will you be my friend now?"

"Is that your name?" Lancaeriel asked.

The girl shook her head but added, "No, but many call me that before they learn my real name." She looked up at Lancaeriel with wide pleading eyes.

Lancaeriel laughed at the hopeful look on Rani's face, despite the odd words. "Well, I know what to call you now, but you do not know what to call me! It does not seem fair for me to tell you my real name when you will not tell me yours." She watched as the child's eyes began to fall in sorrow. " _ **But**_ ," Lancaeriel added, "I will tell you what my close friends call me, and then we can be friends!"

Rani looked up and smiled brightly. "I bet it is pretty! Just like you!"

Once again, Lancaeriel laughed at the look on the child's face. "Thank you! You may call me Caeri, and I think you are pretty, too."

Rani nodded and sat down close beside Lancaeriel and began telling her all about Prine Legolas's offer for any elves to move to Ithilien if they did not wish to live in the mountains or sail West. Lancaeriel listened patiently as the girl told her she should move there, where she could be happy.

"I am sure many elves will be happy living in Ithilien with Prince Legolas," Lancaeriel told her. "But I do not know the prince or any other elves living in Ithilien. I do not think I would be very happy there," she finished, sadness filling her heart once more.

Lancaeriel closed her eyes, knowing neither Ithilien nor Imladris was the answer to her dilemma. She made a decision, deep in her heart knowing it was the only way she would have peace.

When she opened her eyes, Rani was gone.

~ —

The following day, Lancaeriel went to see Besoneth and apologized for her behavior from the day before. The older lady pulled her into an embrace, stroking her long hair before releasing her.

"Well at least you did not disappear for days as you are wont to!" Besoneth admonished.  
"It is alright, child. I know this is a hard thing for you. Have you decided what to do?"

"I have decided that if I cannot stay here in my home, then I will go with those heading West. At least as far as Imladris. I have no desire to sail. This world is my home."

"I wish you would come with us," Besoneth sounded sad but accepting. "But I understand your need for a fresh start. How can I help you prepare for the journey?"

Lancaeriel gratefully accepted her friend's help. Together they packed all the belongings Lancaeriel would take with her, and Besoneth even saw to it that she have two horses to carry the load on her journey, first to the Elvenking's Halls, and then on across the Misty Mountains to Imladris.

"I feel somehow I am failing you," Besoneth said as Lancaeriel prepared to head southeast. No one else in her village would be going West, but rather south, before the snows completely covered the landscape in a deep blanket.

"You have never failed me. You have cared for me as well as Naneth ever would." Lancaeriel smiled, though it wavered. How hard it was to keep the truth from the one who had loved her as a daughter!

But she was determined and so she took up the lead rope to her pack horse and mounted her own. With a final wave, Lancaeriel took the path out of the village that led towards the Elvenking's Halls, where those heading West were gathering. They would leave for the trip over the Misty Mountains on the first of Gwirith.

Lancaeriel would not be joining them.

She rode for an hour, assuring she was out of sight of the settlement where she had lived her entire life. Then she circled back to the northwest, well away from the settlements in the area. She headed for a secret place of hers, further northwest. It was a place her father had taken her when out hunting for their winter store of food. There she could remain through the winter. Come spring she could move back into her talon and resume her solitary life.

**To be continued...**

**Pronunciation guide**

Lancaeriel (Lahn kire' ee ell)

Caeri (Kire' ee)

Besoneth (Behs-ohn-eth)

Anthir (Ahn' theer)

**Author's Note:** It should be noted that elves did not use nicknames as I have used them. Please consider this AU if it so pleases you.

**Reviews really make my day. Please take a minute to tell me what you think of the story? Even just a few words mean a lot. Thank you!**


	4. Three: High Hopes

**Three**

_**Small Village Northwest of the Elven King's halls** _

_**18 Gwirith Year 29, Fourth Age** _

"I'm tellin ya, dey all left! There innit no elves dere no more. Dey awl sailed away or where'er dey go."

Brigus narrowed his eyes at the drunk trader sitting across the table. The wiry old man was little more than a peddler, traveling town to town. He claimed to have come from West of the Great Wood, headed for Laketown, Dale and the surrounding villages to sell his wares.

If what the trader said about the elves was true, then maybe Brigus had just discovered his key to an easier life, a life he would much rather have than the hard work forced upon him just to survive. And all because of bad luck. If only…

But wishing the fire hadn't happened would not change his life. Besides, he hadn't really enjoyed farm life either. It was still a lot of work, and Brigus would rather spend his time in other pursuits. And the only way to ensure that would be to strike it rich.

The elves had treasure. Everyone knew that. Loads of it. And if they'd abandoned their Halls, it was doubtful they'd taken it all with them.

He'd heard about the Lonely Mountain and the dwarves and how even the carved stones were plated in gold and set with precious stones. The elves weren't much different when it came to treasure. At least that Elvenking was rumored to love it. And if dwarves coated their walls with treasure, it was very likely the elves did too. And they wouldn't have taken the walls with them if they left, now would they?

He smirked. "How do you know the elves are all gone? Mebbe only some of them left, or perhaps it's a trap to lure people to them. I've heard tales of how they take lost people in as prisoners and hold them for ransom."

The drunk across the table took another long drink from his mug and set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his shaking hand.

"I dunna know nuthin' about that ransom stuff, but I saw 'em leavin'. With my own eyes, I saw da wagons and da horses and da elves all headed West. Lots of 'em. Passed 'em on the Elf Path on my way to Dale, I did."

"Maybe it was just a few of them. I've heard there are hundreds of elves living in the Elvenking's Realm."

"I don't know about hundreds, but there was a lot of 'em I saw leavin'! Never seen so many people traveling altogether like, and I've traveled mah whole life." He took another sloppy drink of ale and wiped his mouth. "Now, mebbe there be one or two left. I ain't sayin' dere ain't. But I even saw dat king of theirs, too. So tell me, who would stay if even da king was leavin'? Hmm?"

"How do you know the king was with them? You could have seen anyone. I've heard they all look alike."

"Heard 'em, one of 'em, call him that. Tried to sell my wares to them, I did, but they brushed me off right quick. And one of 'em called another 'my king' and bowed and they moved along right down the path without buying so much as a single bar of soap!"

The trader went to take another swallow of his ale, but the mug was empty. He slapped it down onto the table and leaned forward. "Now, ain't that what ya wanted to know? Pay up!" He smacked his hand flat against the table.

Brigus would have rather learned more, but it was clear the trader knew nothing else. He tossed the man the promised coin, stood and left the drunk, who was even now waving for the barmaid to bring him another ale.

He strode across the room and out into the night, his mind awhirl with thoughts of departing elves, their treasure and never having to work another day in the blazing sun for a few coins. He deserved it, after all he'd done, working all these years beside their Pa, only to lose everything, including his Pa, to that fire.

His little brother had high hopes for a new life, wasting his time working for other men and chasing the girl from the farm beside theirs. Torel talked about marriage and family and rebuilding the place. But to do so would require money. More money they either of them could make as a hired hand.

Brigus had no desire to settle down with a single woman when a few coins could buy him a night with any of the tavern wenches. He worked, too, to earn those coins, but he hated every minute of toil in the sun for other men, the sweat pouring off his brow, stinging the various cuts and blisters he obtained from hard physical labor. There had to be an easier way to make money. He'd already tried gambling, and lost more than he'd won.

But if he had treasure, now, that could buy him whatever he wanted. Maybe even his own tavern full of wenches and barmaids. Then he could drink his fill and bed as many maids as he pleased and people would look up to him instead of looking at him with pity. He could even build Torel and their mother a nice house and let his brother have the farm if he so wished. He could save them all just by using his cunning.

He just needed to investigate a bit more, maybe ride to the next town over and see if they'd heard anything about the elves leaving.

And if it were true, and the elves had left, then he would round up a few men he trusted, maybe even Torel. The boy needed to become more of a man. And together they would find those Halls and take whatever the elves had left behind. Even a single large gem could set him up for life. He just had to find it.

And nothing would stand in his way of having what he wanted. He'd see to that.

**To Be Continued….**


	5. Four: Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The centered quotes in italics are words spoken long ago by Legolas & Gimli and come from the story Never Again.

**Four**

_**Eryn Lasgalen** _

_**Northwest of the Elven King's halls** _

_**1 Lothron** _ _**Year 29 F.A.** _

The sun hid behind a cloud, but it did not dim the beauty of the forest.

Legolas sighed and leaned back against the tree where he sat. His heart was heavy, but it had been lightened from the darkness that had consumed him when all his kin had left. A short visit from two unlikely visitors had reminded him that he was not truly alone; he had only been lonely.

Elfwine, Eomer's son, and Din, Gimli's second, returning from a trip to Erebor, had arrived at the Halls nearly two weeks after his family had departed. That short visit had pulled him out of the despair he had been in, and he had to admit the loneliness he felt was his own fault.

Legolas closed his eyes, angry with himself for what he had done. Gimli would be furious when he found out – furious…and hurt. Legolas squeezed his eyes tight. He should have sent a message to his friend, at least told him what was happening. He had left a letter to be sent to Aragorn, but the King of Gondor had been in Dol Amroth and would not have received it for several months. Aragorn and Arwen would understand his absence. Arwen especially would understand his pain, though she would also scold him for allowing himself to endure it alone.

Legolas opened his eyes and stared at the grass beneath him. The light wind brushing the blades reminded him of the waves on the sea. He swallowed thickly and pushed the longing back from his thoughts. A large part of him wished he had brought Gimli, yet Legolas wanted to say goodbye to the wood of his birth alone. Painful though it was, it brought a strange sense of peace to his heart. He was supposed to be here…alone.

The sun peaked back out from behind the cloud, shining back down on the wood. Legolas looked at the trees around him. A strange whisper grew in his mind. There was some task for him here, some reason that kept him from returning to Ithilien. It had not yet presented itself, but whatever drew him to this part of the wood would not elude him for long.

A sudden flash of white caught his eye from amid the trees. Legolas jumped to his feet, eyes widening. Something or someone was there, moving along the sun dappled forest floor. Legolas jogged towards it, curious as to what it could be. As he got closer he could sense it was no animal. But then, as sudden as it had appeared, it was gone.

He searched the area for several minutes, but found no sign of anything or anyone. Shaking his head, he told himself the fading light played tricks on his mind. Whatever purpose he was here for would present itself in time, so long as he did not get distracted by imagined ghosts!

Turning, he walked leisurely back the way he had come, through the trees towards the Halls. But he froze as a shriek pierced the air. He spun around and ran back towards the sound, back towards where he had seen the flash of white.

_**Royal Wing of the Citadel** _

_**Minas Tirith, Gondor** _

_**1 Lothron, Year 29 F.A.** _

Gimli marched from his quarters in Minas Tirith, his anger emanating from him and sending servants and nobles alike out of his path. Even the guards avoided him, only opening doors to provide him passage where needed. If they had known him, truly known him the way Legolas did, they would have seen through the anger for the front it was…a way to hide his fear. But they did not, and the elf was not here.

Gimli had arrived an hour ago, only pausing to leave his things in the room he inhabited when visiting the White City. He had paused only to take note that the adjoining room was vacant and had been unused for some time.

_Dratted elf!_

Gimli shook his head in frustration as he walked and mumbled to himself. What _had_ that elf done this time? Better yet, where _was_ the confounded creature?

Legolas had not disappeared like this in twenty years. The elf had kept his vow, and the visits between the friends had increased. Truly there _were_ times Gimli tired of Legolas's flightiness. But he would gladly put up with any elvish nonsense just to know his friend was safe and as free from the torment the sea inflicted as possible.

Gimli sighed, knowing there was not much a dwarf could do about the sea longing, but there _was_ something he could do about the elf's absence for most of the last year. At least, there would be if he could _find_ Legolas!

Two guards scrambled to open the doors to the King's Hall as Gimli stormed through on his way to the King's library. He only stopped when he reached it, pausing in the doorway as memories from twenty years past assailed him. He closed his eyes against the pain of the words spoken so long ago.

"… _I am leaving in the morning, headed for the havens. So I suppose this is...goodbye."_

" _What do you mean this is goodbye? You can't leave."_

" _I cannot stay any longer, Gimli. The pain...it is too great. I have struggled against it and I can fight no longer._

_My memory has not returned, I feel it will not unless I sail. I am sorry, but I have to go."_

" _But Legolas, there is still hope. You could still remember. Did your father push you into this?"_

" _NO…There is no hope. I cannot remember. And my father has done nothing but support me in my anguish._

_You would do well to be careful how you speak of him."_

" _You can't leave, Legolas. Not yet."_

" _I can and I will. Who are you to stop me?"_

" _I ask not for myself, Legolas…And I cannot stop you from going. But I beseech you to wait until you have remembered more. I fear once you reach Valinor... and you are healed there and remember..._

_you will regret deeply. You will remember and the regret will be very bitter, lad._

_You should not leave like this. I know you suffer, I know the pain..."_

" _YOU KNOW_ _ **NOTHING**_ _!...You can NEVER understand the torment I endure! I can remain here no longer! …_

_And if I regret, then I regret."_

" _Very well…But hear this, Legolas. When you reach the Undying Lands, and the Valar heal your mind..._

_when you remember those that you left behind. Do not sorrow over it, lad. Do not regret._

_Go with my blessing, be free of your pain. Just remember me Legolas...remember I love you._

_And I will never forget you…Goodbye, Legolas. Have a safe journey... And remember."_

The memories of the elf standing there expressionless haunted Gimli, and he feared what he would find when he entered the library this time. Had Legolas in a fit of sea longing taken himself to the Havens? Would he do something so daft as to leave without saying goodbye?

Taking a deep breath, Gimli stepped into the room and faced the opposing couches where that long ago conversation had taken place. But this time, there was no fair-haired elf in this room.

Aragorn sat half sprawled on one of the couches, the book in his hand dropping to his lap as Gimli entered, his boots loud on the stone floor. The man looked up, a smile on his face, "It is good to see you again, my friend! What brings you to Minas Tirith?" The smile on the king's face faded and he quickly sobered as Gimli met his gaze. "What troubles you, Gimli?"

Gimli closed his eyes for a moment, shaking off the memories, as well as the premonitions that something had happened to the elf. He opened them again and looked the king straight in the eye. "Where is the elf, Aragorn? Tell me you have seen him, for I have not seen him since last spring. At the time I thought something troubled him, but I tossed it up to the sea longing instead of pressing him to speak of it. Now, I am not so sure…" His eyes bored into the king's, silently begging for answers he was sure Aragorn did not have.

"Nay, Gimli, I have not seen Legolas since right after the thaw, as my duties have taken me south much of this last year. But surely Tathar would let us know if anything was amiss." Aragorn's eyes widened a fraction as understanding dawned on him. "Legolas missed a visit?"

"Nay, he did not," Gimli replied resignedly, sighing. That was the trouble with elves. They were masters of words and twisting them. "When last I saw him, the elf mentioned he was soon making a trip to Eryn Lasgalen, and that he would contact me when he returned. That was a year ago! Nothing! Not a message, letter, nothing!" Gimli emphasized his words dramatically with one fist slamming down into the palm of his other hand.

Aragorn frowned, his eyes moving to the window behind Gimli. "Surely he is just making an extended visit to his family, Gimli. Legolas often makes a long trip home every few years…" Aragorn paused as Gimli began to shake his head.

The elf always took Gimli with him on those long trips. Always. And Aragorn knew it. They planned their visits to family to coincide so that they might enjoy each other's company during the trip, before separating near Erebor. The fact the elf had not invited him along suggested a short trip, not an extended visit.

Gimli's agitation was increasing. If Aragorn had not seen Legolas or heard anything either, Gimli did not want to consider what their friend had gotten himself into this time. "Send a message to Tathar, Aragorn. If Legolas is there, I will personally kill him! If not…" He trailed off not wanting to consider what could have happened to his friend.

Aragorn stared at him a moment, silent concern filling his blue-gray eyes. "Yes. I shall indeed send a message to Tathar. Have no fear, Gimli, we will find him, and when we do, I will hold him myself so that you can knock some sense into him for his foolishness!"

Gimli's lips pursed and he nodded. In a short time, he would have some answers. At least he hoped he would. With that infuriating elf, one never knew.

_ **FOOTNOTES** _

Aglarond _(Ah-glah-rond)_ is the Sindarin name for the Glittering Caves, the vast caverns in the mountains behind Helm's Deep that were given to Gimli's rule by Eomer.

Tathar _(tah thar)_ is Legolas' second in command and lifelong friend.

Author's Note: The centered quotes in italics are words spoken long ago by Legolas & Gimli and come from the story Never Again.


	6. Five: Letters

**Five**

**Minas Tirith, Gondor  
2 Lothron, Year 29 F.A.**

Seated on his balcony, Gimli looked out over the city of Minas Tirith. His pipe rested distractedly in the corner of his mouth, and every so often he would take a puff from it. He was lost in thought, his mind on the elf, when a knock sounded on the door.

He left his pipe on the stone railing before entering his room. When he opened the door, he found Aragorn standing in the hall. There was no mistaking the expression of concern and worry written on that well-known face.

Gimli frowned, "I take it you received news of the elf?"

Aragorn's eyes were hard as he nodded. "Yes, from more than one source, including his own hand."

_His own hand? Legolas had written Aragorn?_

The thought disturbed him, but he did not show it. He moved aside as Aragorn entered the room.

The man went straight out to the balcony without a word, and Gimli closed his door and followed. There was the possibility that if Aragorn had heard from the elf, then Legolas was fine. Perhaps, he himself had missed a message from Legolas in traveling here.

And Gimli could almost convince himself of that if it were not for the hard look in Aragorn's eyes. The stern silence was evidence enough that all was not well with Legolas.

Gimli picked up his pipe and settled back into his chair. He waited, watching the man standing at the balcony railing, knowing Aragorn would speak when he was ready. It was not always easy to be so patient, and once upon a time, he would have demanded answers. But if years of close friendship with a flighty elf had taught him nothing else, it had instilled in him a level of patience not common to his race.

Aragorn looked out over the city for a few minutes, where Gimli noted the white buildings now reflected the early afternoon sun.

It was a beautiful city. White stone built right into the Mountain. A dwarf appreciated it far more than an elf. He and Legolas had spent many an evening on this balcony arguing that point. The elf did not appreciate the starkness of white stone, though Gimli compared it to the stone of the Elvenking's Halls.

"Not so!" Legolas had argued. "Our halls are carved of living stone, of living places. This—" He waved his hand out over the city. "This is dead."

But Gimli had shaken his head. "Nay, tis not, my friend. Look." And he pointed to the pockets of green, the people moving about the streets, the carvings of kings long dead. It was alive with memory as well as the present. And while Legolas had scoffed, Gimli had seen the appreciation in his friend's eyes, the understanding. But yet he had argued, because that is what they did.

Aragorn turned around, and Gimli blinked away the memories. Without a word, with a firm tightness to his jaw, the man handed over several opened letters.

Gimli took them without a word and began to read the one written in Legolas's hand. It was addressed nearly a full year past!

_7 Nórui, Year 28 F.A.  
Ascarnen, Ithilien_

_Estel,_

_It will be some time before you receive this, as you were leaving for Dol Amroth when last I saw you. This past Spring, my father visited with some discouraging news. It seems there is disparity between my own people that I myself was unaware existed. Perhaps, with my own longing, I should not be surprised, and yet, I find it difficult to believe. I had thought I was torn between two worlds, that of mortals and the calling of the West. Yet I find myself torn between the different worlds of my people, who I had always been taught to believe lived as one. And why would I not, my father of Doriath, and my mother of the Greenwood?_

_Alas, I am one of few. the distinctions between the Sindar and the Silvan too great in the end. The Silvan, or woodelves as you call them, are returning to reclaim their homes south in the Mountains of Greenwood. They wish to return to the lives they once had, free of interference or unwanted contact with other races._

_And my father's people? You would think they would be going with them, but to my surprise, an awakening has occurred in them. They are sailing West._

_Are you as surprised as I am, my friend? I was shocked._

_There are some few who do not wish to sail at this time, and they shall be joining us here in Ithilien or traveling to Imadris, where Elladan and Elrohir have offered a home. Likewise, there are several here in Ithilien who will sail with the king._

Gimli paused, glancing up at Aragorn in alarm. Surely the elf was not leaving? He was almost afraid to continue reading.

"He is not going," Aragorn reassured with a small smile. "Not yet. I also felt my heart drop as I read about the Sindar sailing. Keep reading."

Gimli inhaled deeply and let his eyes find where he had left off the elf's neat script.

_I shall be joining those headed north, to spend these last months with my family. My father has requested it, and I have agreed. I know what you are thinking, and while I would usually take Gimli with me on such a trip, I feel this is a private matter. I cannot put it into words other than to say I feel I must say my goodbyes alone._

_Gimli knows I am making a trip, but I have not yet had the heart to reveal to him this news. He will be angry with me, no doubt, for keeping it from him until after the fact, but I shall travel to Rohan on my return trip to inform him and seek solace in the feasting of his kin. The dwarves do know how to lighten one's heart, do they not?_

_Do not fear for me, for while much earlier than anticipated, it was inevitable that others would sail before me. King Thranduil leads his people to the Havens in the spring of next year. I will stay in Eryn Lasgalen until that time, then spend some time saying my goodbyes to that wood of my birth. I fear I will never again return to it._

_If you see the dwarf while I am away, assure him I am fine. I will visit him by the end of Gwirith of next year, then I will come to Minas Tirith for that long visit we talked about. I am sure you and Arwen, more than anyone, understand what this time will mean for me. I look forward to that hunt we spoke of; perhaps we should invite Faramir and Eldarion as well?_

_Take care my friend, until I see you again._

_Legolas_

Gimli looked up from the letter, many emotions swirling inside him: concern, anger, fear... Anger won out. "What was he thinking, Aragorn? To face that alone? On top of the sea longing? He has lost his mind!" His voice had started low, but grew louder as he spoke.

Aragorn shook his head. "I understand his need to say his goodbyes alone, Gimli. It is...an elven thing. However, I agree with you. This was foolishness. If I had received this letter earlier, I would have sent word to you…and perhaps even accompanied you to Eryn Lasgalen." The man took a deep breath and his eyes fell, "There is more, Gimli. Read the others."

His anger fizzled out as fear reared its ugly head. Gimli's eyes flew to the other two letters in his hand. He quickly opened the one from Tathar, Legolas' second in command, noting it must have been written this morning. Tathar had made haste in sending a message back.

2 _Lothron, Year 29 F.A.  
Ascarnen, Ithilien_

_King Elessar,_

_I must apologize for an oversight on our part, and thus for your concern for my lord. Your missive was timely, as only last evening we discovered a letter Legolas had addressed to you, before he set out on a trip to Eryn Lasgalen. It, along with instructions to send it to you, upon your return from Dol Amroth, seemed to have been misplaced by a gust of wind. They were found behind his writing desk when Tiriel insisted upon cleaning Legolas's rooms in preparation for his return._

_I am certain the enclosed correspondence from Legolas explains his absence from Ithilien, however, I feel I must also relay my concerns for him to you. King Thranduil and the Sindar of Eryn Lasgalen have chosen to sail, and in fact, were due to leave early this spring. The King himself informed me they would leave on 1 Gwirith of this year, and he as a father was concerned Legolas would be full of grief at their departure. I was given instructions to go after him if he had not returned by the first of Lothron, and was making arrangements to send an escort after him when I received your missive._

_However, it would not surprise me if upon hearing this news Gimli chose to go himself, perhaps with you as company. In which case I shall respect the bonds of friendship by allowing the two of you to handle the matter yourselves. If not, please send word and I will depart myself and bring him back to where he belongs._

_Please give my greetings to Lord Gimli and your Queen._

_Tathar_

Of all the stupid, flighty, irresponsible things that elf had done, this was one of the worst! Gimli's stomach tightened into a knot at the thought of his friend, alone in the woods after having watched all his kin ride away. That foolish creature!

Yes, he would allow Aragorn to hold the elf while Gimli knocked some sense into that flighty head of his!

He glanced at the last letter, surprise filling him when he discovered it was written in the hand of Din, his lifelong friend. Din had also befriended Legolas, as had most of the dwarves of the Glittering Caves.

But Din was on a trip to the Lonely Mountain with Elfwine of Rohan. They were due to return and might have arrived at Edoras in his absence, but Gimli had not expected to hear from his Second until mid May. Of course, Din would not be happy to discover that Gimli had left Blákari in charge. Unless…

The air left Gimli's lungs forcefully, as he realized Din must have taken Elfwine on a visit to the elves. Only the elves would not have been there, except one.

He quickly began to read the terse, factual report sent by his good friend.

_29 Gwirith Year 29 F.A.  
Edoras_

_King Elessar and Lord Gimli,_

_Elfwine and myself, upon concluding our business in the Lonely Mountain, decided to make a visit to the elves of Eryn Lasgalen. We stopped in Laketown and heard rumors that the elves had all sailed. We did not think too much of them, as we knew Gimli would have informed me if such a thing had happened. However, upon reaching the woods, we rode for hours without being stopped by a guard! In fact, we rode all the way to the Thranduil's halls without seeing so much as one elf!_

_It was there that we found Legolas. I have never seen such despair in a creature's eyes. I was reminded of how you described him all those years ago, Gimli, after that accident that almost took him. It was as if he were only a shell and his soul had already fled. It only lasted a few moments…yet it was there._

_The elf's spirits lifted at seeing us, and we spent the day and night visiting with him. He put on a good show, but I have come to know him well enough in his visits to see that Legolas is not himself. The elf suffers, alone in those woods, with only his horse for company. He refused to travel with us, saying he still needed to say goodbye to the wood. Elvish foolishness if you ask me! I could also see what you had pointed out on many occasions, Gimli. The sea longing is tormenting him badly._

_He did not ask me to keep this information from you, which in itself is telling, no matter I would never have made such a promise. Upon taking our leave of him, we made all haste in returning to Edoras to get this message to you._

_When we arrived, I learned Gimli was already in Minas Tirith, having left Blákari in charge of my caves! We will speak of your choice of command when you return, Gimli. In the meantime, I will handle matters at home, for I know you shall go after the elf. I pray Mahal lends you speed to travel there quickly._

_Din_

Din knew him well…knew that Gimli would travel north immediately at receiving the news.

And Eomer had known the urgency as well, for along with Din's letter was a short note from the King of the Mark.

_Greetings my friends. I am sorry to be the sender of such news, but upon hearing it, I dispatched Din's letter with my fastest rider for Minas Tirth. Sad is this day, less bright, now that there are less of the firstborn among us. I pray you bring home that one which is dear to us all, for that loss would bite deeply into all our hearts._

_If I may be of any assistance, just send word._

_Eomer King_

Gimli felt the letters fall from his hand and land lightly in his lap. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he looked up into eyes that reflected his own concern, anger and fear.

"I must go to him, Aragorn. We both most, for I do not know that I can reach him on my own—or find him in those woods! We must leave at once."

For a brief moment, Aragorn's eyes shone with something Gimli had not seen in a long time. Then his eyes fell.

"I do not know that I can leave right now, Gimli. I greatly wish to do so as Legolas needs us, but I cannot just leave my kingdom…" He trailed off, obviously torn between the duty of country and the loyalty of friendship.

Gimli eyed the man for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. I must go, however. I will not leave him to suffer alone a moment longer than necessary. I leave at sun up, if you decide to join me."

— ~ —

Aragorn leaned against the window ledge on the uppermost level of the Tower of Ecthelion as he watched the sinking sun tinge the city below in various shades of gold. Anger and frustration filled him, making him feel every one of his years. At one time, this decision would not take more than a fraction of a second. Loyalty to friendship was dear to him. But he was no longer the Ranger wandering the wilds, free to make his own choices. Duty was as deeply ingrained in him as loyalty.

Aragorn sighed, lowering his head into his hands…his elbows resting on the ledge. His heart told him one thing, his head another. He needed another voice.

The rustle of silk skirts behind him did not change his position, though one corner of his mouth lifted slightly as the owner of that voice appeared as though bidden. He should not be surprised anymore, when she found him, and yet, he always felt his heart leap.

"Once again, I find you hiding in the tower from your councilors. Why do you linger here, my love? What troubles you?" The soft, yet ancient voice brushed over him, soothing his weary heart.

Without moving, he answered her, his voice full of bitterness, "Duty. Duty causes me to seek solace in the sunset. It robs me of many things that mean the most to me." Aragorn lifted his head and straightened, watching as the sun sank out of sight.

"Duty. Yes, as king, your duties require more of you than any other man. But your duty lies not only to your people, Estel. You also have a duty to yourself and those whom you love."

Arwen stepped forward and rested her forehead against his back, her arms encircling his waist. "If you ignore those duties, your duties as king will suffer as well. So which is truly more important? Sitting in court another week, listening to nobles bicker…or going to Legolas and easing both your hearts?"

He blinked. How did she always know?

"The sea pulls at him. He needs you, Estel."

He stood a moment longer in her arms before turning and gathering Arwen to him. Their foreheads came together and their eyes met and held. Then he smiled.

"Ever do you remind me why I made you my queen. Your wisdom far outweighs my own." He kissed her softly. "I would be lost without you, Undómiel."

She smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. "I know you would, that is why I am here."

Her eyes shone and she turned him towards the stair, swatting him lightly on the backside. "Now go, get into those smelly ranger things and be gone from here. I will send for Faramir to help Eldarion deal with our dear, annoying nobles while you are away. It will be good for the boy."

Aragorn took one last look over his shoulder, feeling lighter than he had in months, before bounding down the stairs.

Behind him, Arwen shook her head and smiled to herself. He would be fit to live with again when he returned. Turning, she leaned against the ledge, watching the stars come out, one by one as the velvet darkness of night settled over the city she called home.

The next morning, before the sun had even breached the horizon, two riders left the city gates headed north.

**FOOTNOTES**

In my UFS verse, Eldarion is the only son and oldest heir of Aragorn and Arwen. He is just over twenty years old.


	7. Six: Hunt for Treasure

**Six**

_**Small Village Northwest of the Elven King's halls** _

_**8 Lothron Year 29, Fourth Age** _

Night had long fallen.

Most of the respectable people of the town were behind closed doors, resting in preparation for another hard day's work on the morrow. Those not so respectable could mostly be found in one of the two taverns. The Twisted Twig was the larger of the two, and had a large covered porch across the front, complete with a long rough hewn bench. The tavern also served as the town's only inn, and during respectable hours, served decent meals.

Brigus downed his drink and let his gaze drift from man to man seated at the table with him. His eyes lingered briefly on the hopeful brown eyes of his brother, then caught the speculative stare of Prem, Torel's closest friend. Those hazel eyes bore into him, and he smirked back, not in the least intimidated by the younger man. Both Torel and Prem were barely more than boys, but Prem had an air of maturity to him that Torel lacked, which was why Brigus had included him. That and the boy could keep his mouth shut.

The other men at the table were markedly older, more world-wise. Sirk and Nirk were identical twins, though the scar on Nirk's face set him apart. Both were hard and had spent time in the town's gaol for various crimes. It was rumored they had dwarven blood in them, but Brigus doubted it. For certain, they had skills that could come in handy on their quest and were as eager as he to find treasure. They would be useful opening any locks or in removing gems and gold from the walls.

Their last man slipped into the room and crossed it to sit across from Brigus. The others scooted away from him, and Brigus himself did not directly meet Jasper's eyes. This man was dangerous, cunning, and Brigus would rather not have him as part of the group, but Nirk had insisted they needed him. Reluctantly, Brigus had included Jasper, and hoped he didn't live to regret it.

With a glance about the crowded room, Jasper nodded towards the door. "Too many ears," He said, his challenging stare boring into Brigus.

Brigus grit his teeth in annoyance. This was _his_ hunt for treasure! But the man was right. They didn't need anyone overhearing their plans. With a slight nod, he stood, turned and walked out of the tavern. The other men followed.

Outside, Brigus leaned back against the railing of the porch and watched his companions as they exited the building. The night was cool, quiet. They were alone.

"Well?" Sirk asked, standing to one side of him. Brigus looked at the boys, who had sat on the bench. Jasper stood to one side, his shoulder leaning against the front wall, but his eyes never still, always watching. Nirk took the opposite side in a similar pose.

"It seems the trader is not the only one to have seen the elves leaving. Rumors abound as far as Laketown."

Torel smiled, his eyes twinkling with youthful mirth. He wanted treasure so he could rebuild the farm and marry his girl. But the boy didn't understand just what all might be involved in getting it. "And if the elves have left, surely they left treasure behind! There's no way they could have carried all they had in a few wagons."

"But what if they didn't all leave?" Prem asked, his hazel eyes boring once again into Brigus. The uncertainty there was clear. "Surely you don't want us to go in there so soon? I don't want to fight any elves! And I'm no thief."

Prem glanced at the Sirk, then Nirk. Jasper stared with cold eyes at Prem, then looked to Brigus with a lifted brow, as if to ask why he had included children in this quest.

"What are a few elves?" Brigus asked. "From what I've heard, the Halls of the Elvenking are empty. If any remain, they are those that live in the woods with no desire for treasure. And in Laketown they say those elves moved to the Mountains!"

Prem considered this, then nodded but added, "I'm not stealing though. If it's abandoned, I'll take what I find, but I'm not fighting elves for a few baubles."

"It ain't just baubles we're going in for, boy," Jasper rumbled, his scratchy voice cold and hard. "It's gold and gems we're looking for."

"Right," Brigus added. "I'm not going to keep working my tail off every day in the hot sun when we could be living good on what we may find." Brigus held Prem's gaze, but it was Torel that spoke next.

"Come on, Prem. It will be easy. Brigus has looked into it. If the elves were still there, we wouldn't be going."

Prem sighed and the defiance went out of him. With a slight smile, he said, "Alright."

"So we'll set out in two days time," Brigus said. "Torel, you and Prem secure the food stuffs." He tossed Torel a small change purse with a few coins in it. "The rest of us will get the other things we'll need together. Maybe by week's end we'll have found us some treasure!"

That cheered all the men, and they parted ways. Torel and Prem arguing as to what would make the best food to take for the journey, and Nirk and Sirk discussing what tools they would need for opening locks or prying gems from walls.

Jasper glanced at him. "And what about weapons?"

Brigus nodded. "You and I will bring the weapons."

**To be continued…**

**Author's Inquiry: Anyone actually reading this? I used to get quite a bit of feedback but since I started posting again, I've hardly received any reviews. Just curious as to whether I'm wasting my time on this. I judge what to spend my time working on by the feedback I get. So if you want to read more, please review.**


	8. Seven: Are You Afraid?

**Seven**

_**Northwestern** _ _**Eryn Lasgalen** _

11 Lothron, Year 29 F.A.

_What am I doing here?_ Legolas internally berated himself.

_There is something here you are supposed to do,_ his mind whispered back.

Overdue to return home to Ascarnen, yet here he was, several days travel north of the Halls, in territory previously held by the giant spiders. But the arachnids had all been eradicated after the destruction of Dol Guldur, their webs removed, the forest healed. And nearly three decades later, the wildlife once again flourished.

In the early morning light, he stopped to watch a family of deer in a small clearing. He smiled as the twin white fawns scampered across the grass in play while the doe grazed peacefully. He was reminded of Manuilos and the trouble he had put his siblings through. That fawn had also been a bridge between him and his father after his mother had died. These deer could very well be descended from her.

He watched a few minutes longer, then skirted the clearing, not wishing to disturb the doe. Once around the clearing he continued on his way towards where he had heard that disturbing scream.

Legolas had searched for hours after hearing that scream in the woods. But he had been unable to find any sign or track of any kind and with no further evidence, he had given up and returned to the abandoned halls of his kin, almost convincing himself he had heard the vocalization of some new form of wildlife that had located to the area.

But his attempts to pack up and head home had been thwarted by some inner need to check one more time. It had not been an animal he had seen and heard. And until he searched one more time, he could not bring himself to leave. He knew there was some purpose for his being here. He just had not discovered it yet.

So ten days later, here he was, back where he had seen and heard whatever it was. It was silly, perhaps, but he simply could not head south until he had made certain there was no one here that needed him.

He walked another ten minutes before he heard it. From ahead came a faint voice raised in a mournful song. He could not make out the words, and as sudden as he heard it, it ceased. He continued on and soon came to another small clearing. And from it came the sound of soft laughter, light and carefree.

He approached, both cautious and curious, and peered from the cover of the wood to the sunlit carpet of wildflowers.

There, in the center of the small space, sat a small girl wearing a plain white dress.

Legolas searched with his eyes for any sign of an adult or family, but he could sense no other in the vicinity. He looked back at the girl. It was hard to judge her age, for he could not tell if she were human or elven. That by itself disconcerted him, for he had never had difficulty before discerning one of his own race. If human, she was perhaps six or seven summers. But no human child should be in this part of the wood. And the elves had all left…

Legolas stepped into the clearing. The girl looked up at him, her face framed by long gold hair. She smiled and he returned the grin, walking towards her slowly, not wishing to frighten her.

"Where are your parents, little one?" Legolas asked in the Common Tongue once he was a few paces away from her. She must be from one of the villages of men at the edge of the forest, though how she had found her way so far into the wood concerned him. It was a couple days' walk to the closest edge of the forest.

She blinked at him in what appeared to be confusion, her deep blue eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. He tried again. "Who are you? Where are you from?"

The girl tilted her head, and for a moment, it a flash of starlight filled her eyes. It vanished so quickly, Legolas was certain he must have imagined it. Still, she did not answer, but continued to gaze at him, almost through him, in silence. Could it be the girl had something wrong with her? He had seen such things in the race of Men, individuals whose minds were simple and could not comprehend. Such things were unknown to the elves, but it could explain how a young girl was alone here in the wood.

Legolas knelt to her level and tried again, this time in his native tongue. It was improbable she would understand the language of the elves, but it could not hurt to try.

"What is your name, child?"

The girl's chin raised, and she smiled brightly at him, before replying, "You will know, one day…but that is not today." She giggled and hid her face behind her golden hair.

Surprised both that she had responded and the manner she had done so, Legolas stared at her.

So she was not human. He supposed it was possible that some Silvan families had remained north of the mountains, but he had been led to believe they had all left.

And yet here was this elfling, alone in the wood. And what an odd response for a child so young to say.

She peeked at him through her hair. "Are you afraid?" She asked him softly.

"Nay, little one, there is nothing here to fear. If you will tell me where you are from, I shall take you home."

From her question, Legolas assumed she must be afraid. A child alone in the wood, no family nearby that he could sense…

"No, there is nothing _**here**_ to fear, but you should be afraid or it will destroy you."

Her voice… For a moment, did not sound childlike, but ethereal. Stunned, he looked closer at the small being before him, no longer at ease but on guard. Something was not right.

But she giggled in the manner of a small girl and hid behind her hair once more.

Strange. She acted as a child but then spoke like Galadriel. "What is there to fear, little one? What do you know? Why are you here alone?"

"You will know, one day…but that is not today." She replied, repeating her words from before.

"When will I know?" he asked.

She grinned. "Not today."

He decided to take a different tactic. One he had learned from Aragorn's children, Eldarion in particular. If you could not get the answer you desired, try distraction. Children often talked more than they realized if you could get them talking about something.

"What is your name, little one?"

She tilted her head, as if debating whether she should give him that information. Finally, she replied, to Legolas' frustration, "You will know, one day…but that is not today."

He rolled his eyes, as she laughed brightly, then she said, "You may call me Rani, but that is not my real name. I will tell you my real name when it is time."

He shook his head in exasperation. This child spoke as a wizard! "Very well, Rani. Now where do you live, so I may take you back to your parents? You should not be here alone."

Rani shook her head.

A slight breeze stirred the trees behind them, and the sound of a loud crack rent the stillness. Legolas turned to look, searching the trees for any sign of danger. But there was nothing amiss that he could see, so he turned back to the child—only she was no longer there.

Legolas stood and searched around the clearing for any sign of where she had gone, wondering how she had moved so quickly and silently for one so small. But he found no trace of her, no track, nothing.

She had vanished.

– ~ –

_**Northwestern Eryn Lasgalen** _

Same day…

The woods were almost silent this peaceful morning. A bird would chirp occasionally, or the trees would rustle softly in the slight breeze, but otherwise, all was quiet.

Lancaeriel inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, taking in the peace and tranquility around her. She was home. She should be happy, except…

She could hardly believe she had succeeded in her plans. No one knew she had not gone to Imladris. No one knew she was here. She was in her wood, alone as she had wished…and yet, she had no peace. She felt ashamed of her actions, for misleading Besoneth, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

She tried to settle in her mind that she could live alone with her wounded heart forever, but she was not happy here. She hated to admit that she was wounded beyond what the wood could heal. But it was true. No longer did the songs of her people ring through the night. No longer could she hear the laughter of others as they went about their lives. The trees themselves grieved, saddened by the loss of her kin.

They feared for her as well.

Confused and hurting, she walked among the trees, and as she walked, Lancaeriel heard a soft song rise on the wind. Surprised, she moved in the direction of the sound, curiosity overwhelming caution.

It did not take her very long to find its source. In a small clearing, she found the elfling, Rani, sitting in the grass, her fingers weaving long green blades into a chain as she sang a sad song in an unfamiliar language.

Lancaeriel looked about for any others, but there was no one else there. The trees confirmed it. She was alone here, except for the child.

She crossed to the girl and stooped to Rani's level. The girl looked up and smiled.

"I knew you would be here…"

"Rani!" Lancaeriel exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Where are your parents, little one? You cannot be here alone!" Fear filled Lancaeriel's heart as she desperately tried to figure out how the girl was left behind. It was not possible. She had been here many months and had seen no other in all that time.

With a soft smile, Rani shook her head and met Lancaeriel's eyes. "I am not alone. There is another here, not too far away. Do not be afraid, Caeri, it is all right."

Rani picked up the grass chain she had been braiding, her small fingers playing with the long strands.

Relieved Rani was not alone, Lancaeriel lowered dherself to sit beside her in the grass. "Who else is here, Rani? And why did you not go south with the others?"

"You will know one day, but that is not today."

The child's illusive answer, spoken in a voice resounding of purpose and something else she could not name, stirred fear in Lancaeriel's heart. This child was unlike anyone she had ever met before.

"Who are you…really? What do you want from me?" Lancaeriel asked, moving a bit away. She could sense that this girl was not what she at first appeared and that was a startling thought.

But Rani smiled reassuringly, "You will know all in time. You do not need to fear me."

But the words did not ease Lancaeriel's apprehension.

"I just see things…in my mind…things to come. I…" the child sighed, lowering her eyes. "I just wanted to help you. Not many understand me. I thought you would." Rani finished in a whisper, a hint of tears in her voice.

Lancaeriel then understood. "Oh Rani, I am sorry. You have a great gift, and one day I am sure it will cause you joy, rather than sadness. The other children must have been afraid of your knowing the future, of knowing things they had no way of knowing."

Rani looked up at her, tears welling in her deep blue eyes, her small lips quivering. "I knew you would understand," she whispered softly, moving closer and laying her head against Lancaeriel's shoulder.

Then she begin to speak of danger in the wood, shadows that even now headed their direction. Lancaeriel needed to leave and head southeast with all haste.

"I can take you to someone who will help you," Rani told her. "He can take you to Prince Legolas's home, where you will be safe and happy. There your heart will not hurt so much. You need friends, Caeri, to help you. And there are those who need you, too."

Lancaeriel listened without interrupting, knowing the child spoke out of foresight, a gift given to few. She could hear the concern and fear in Rani's voice.

But although Lancaeriel knew the child spoke the truth, she had no interest in going to Ithilien so far away from the forest she loved, from the graves of her parents and brother.

Besides, what good would come of growing close to others, making more friends that could be taken from her with no notice. She feared letting herself care but even more she feared losing another she cared for. Another such loss would destroy her.

As to any danger, she knew these woods, knew how to hide. Anthir had taught her to defend herself.

Completely forgetting about her earlier pain and lack of peace, Lancaeriel lifted her chin and decided she would not leave. She would not give up her home and wood so easily.

Rani pulled back from her, as if sensing her decision, and stood. Determination filled the small face. "I will not fail to save you," she blurted. Then without another word, the small girl turned and fled, disappearing into the trees.

Lancaeriel looked for her, but was unable to find any sign of Rani. She hoped the child had found the 'other' she had spoken of, and was now safe.

She dared not consider to closely the words the child had spoken.

— ~ —

_**Northwestern Eryn Lasgalen** _

Same day…

Legolas awakened to the sound of birds singing in the tree around him. He had fallen asleep mid day, but now sat up and stretched the kinks from his back, the result of laying on an awkward branch in the old oak tree in which he was perched.

He let his eyes wander the area around the clearing where he had met little Rani early that morning.

There was still no sign of the child. That more than anything perplexed him. She should have left some sign of her passing, a track, a broken stem, but there was nothing disturbed in or around the clearing except where the girl had sat in the grass.

It was quite unnerving, the child's sudden appearance and even more her seeming vanishing. No child he had ever known could move with such speed or silence, human or elven.

There was something about Rani that Legolas could not explain and did not understand. There was also a nagging sense in the back of his mind that he should. Something about the girl reminded him of something, but he could not remember what it was.

The sound of bright laughter from the trees further north, disrupted his thoughts.

Legolas stood up, balancing easily on the branch where he had lain. He grabbed his weapons and pack hanging on the branch beside him, and moved with speed through the trees towards the sound.

Several minutes later, he could see a flash of white through the trees ahead of him. There, in another small clearing, happily playing in the tall grasses, sat Rani.

Legolas dropped from the trees and walked into the clearing, stopping several paces from the child. She did not seem to have heard his approach or notice him standing there. She continued weaving grasses into a chain, softly singing a song in a language Legolas had never heard before.

As Rani sang the last notes to the haunting tune, Legolas cleared his throat, not wanting to startle the girl. She lifted her head, but did not look at him. "What were you singing about, Rani?" He asked quietly.

Her head turned and she smiled at him over her shoulder. "You will know one day…but that is not today."

Her answer irritated Legolas, and he sighed heavily. "I do not like this game you play, Rani. I do not understand why you are here alone, or why you will not tell me where you belong. I cannot stay here long. I must return to my home soon. Now, where are your parents, child, that I may return you safely to them and be on my way?"

The girl's eyes flashed with strong, before she turned her head back around and stared at the grass chain in her lap. "You cannot leave yet, you have not fulfilled your task," she replied, her tone more of someone issuing an order, than speaking a thought aloud.

Her words and tone caught Legolas altogether off guard. He had felt himself that he had some task to perform before he could leave, but to hear it from one so young was disconcerting.

For several moments, he watched her toy with the grass chain, feeling very ill at ease. Finally, he asked, "What task do you speak of, child? You know not who I am, let alone my purpose here." He waited and watched as she kept her eyes lowered.

Slowly, she raised her head and turned to face him, starlight flashing in her eyes once again. "I know many things…more than you think." She stared hard at him for another moment, then lowered her head wearily.

Legolas ran his hand over his hair and closed his eyes, confused. He was alone in the wood, with a child who spoke in riddles as a wizard. He did not understand what he was here for, but he could not deny that he had known before ever coming across her, that he had a task to perform before leaving the wood.

Inhaling deeply, Legolas opened his eyes. He stared long at the place Rani had sat. The grass chain she had woven lie in the indentation left by her body in the grass.

With strode forward, stooped and picked it up. Letting his eyes wander the area, he found once again, he was alone.

_Guess I am not leaving yet…_

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's request: If you are reading, please leave a short review to let me know! I'd also love to hear what you think so far. Thank you!**


	9. Nine: Long, Hard Ride North

**Nine**

_**Along the banks of the River Running, south of Laketown** _

_**15 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age**_ __ ****  
  
Aragorn checked his mount, placing a comforting hand on the horse's withers. The red coat caught the sunlight like burnished flame. Halruin wanted to run all out, but they still had many miles to ride today.

They had made good time, he and Gimli, which almost surprised him given the fact Halruin was an elvish-bred stallion, while the dwarf rode what he would term a large pony. He smiled to himself as he remembered Eomer had grown belligerent at that term and insisted Moroch, at fourteen hands tall, was a small horse. But to Aragorn, who had been raised in Rivendell with elvish steeds, and whose own Halruin stood a magnificent seventeen hands, Moroch was small and compact. Still, the dark brown pony had ground-eating strides, testimony of his Rohirric breeding, that let him keep up with Halruin's long legs.

He and Gimli had had set out from Gondor on the third day of Lothron and had ridden as hard as they dared without exhausting their mounts. It had been some time since Aragorn had travelled with the dwarf, and he found himself truly amazed on that first leg of their trip from Minas Tirith to Edoras to see Gimli ride with such confidence, and dare he say, grace? When he had commented on the fact, Gimli had brushed him off.

"What did you expect after that elf has dragged me over half of Arda on the back of one of these creatures? Near thirty years now! I should hope I can sit a horse without falling off."

The long, hard ride north had proved exhilarating. Too often, Aragorn found himself cooped up behind the Citadel walls in seemingly endless meetings, or travelling with a large escort. How different his life was now from the life he had lived as a Ranger. While he knew he was blessed, there were times he felt a prisoner rather than the King of Gondor and Arnor. That was probably why Arwen had supported him in going to find Legolas. The walls of stone and Men had begun to take their toll on him.

But here, in the fresh air, the trees of Eryn Lasgalen on his left and the River Running upon his right, he felt once again free. He was grateful for his wife's wisdom in sending him on this journey, as well as her support of his going without an escort, other than Gimli.

Aragorn let a small smile cross his face as he thought of the Queen's adamant refusal to hear any of the council's objections to their king making a personal trip without a guard. He, himself, would rather face the Morannon again, than his wife's fury. The king chuckled to himself as he recalled the fear in many of his councilors' eyes. Those not fearful, were quite amused by Arwen's defense of her husband. But in the end, all respected her and none could refuse her.

The smile fell from Aragorn's face, as he remembered his farewells with his family. He loved them dearly and doted on his children, although Eldarion was of an age he considered himself a man rather than a child.

Aragorn had to admit that the boy was probably right. Had he truly been that young when he had first laid eyes upon his Undómiel and mistakenly called her Tinúviel? He must have been, yet Eldarion, with his elvish heritage, was in appearance younger, the lack of beard causing him to be ridiculed by the other boys his age on occasion. Aragorn worried about his son and the challenges facing him based on his ancestry. Yet, he was also proud of the man his son was becoming. Eldarion embraced both sides of his heritage and proudly proclaimed them. Even as an adolescent he had faced taunts with head high. He would be a worthy king in time, wise and patient.

His thoughts turned to his daughters, Merilin and Glassiel. He would miss them both while he was away, especially little Glassiel, who seemed to grow taller every time he turned around. He loved Merilin just as much, but his oldest daughter, at the age of thirteen, had become moody and irrational, and he found her difficult to understand.

Glassiel, on the other hand, at eight years old, was a joy. She loved life, people and nature, courtesy of a certain elf. She had been most upset before Aragorn had ridden out left, but not because of his departure. No, the child had overheard some conversation regarding Legolas, and she was quite fearful some evil had befallen 'her' Leg'las, as she had called him since she could form the word. Glassiel adored the elf, a feeling equally returned by Legolas. Few held such sway with Legolas as did the youngest princess of Gondor!

Glassiel had pleaded with him to make sure he brought Legolas home, where she could 'care for him properly'. It would have been amusing, if circumstances were different. The care the elf might need could very well be beyond that of a young girl.

Aragorn turned slightly and glanced down at his riding companion. His concerns for Legolas were reflected on Gimli's face. The dwarf was worried—very worried— and with good reason. If anyone understood Legolas and the affliction he suffered from the sea, it was Gimli.

For thirty years, Gimli had stood by Legolas when duty had prevented Aragorn from being able to do so. The strange friendship between elf and dwarf had somehow managed to anchor Legolas. Yet he had left Gimli behind without a word, and that worried them both.

In addition to that, Legolas, by his own admission, should have been in Rohan by the end of Gwirith, yet Din's message had stated he was still in Eryn Lasgalen.

Aragorn had chosen to travel along the same route Legolas would most likely follow if he were headed south, but they had seen no sign of the elf on their journey north. They had stopped briefly in Edoras to rest their mounts, and again in Lórien. Celeborn had confirmed the elf had not traveled through his lands. Either the elf was trapped in grief still in Eryn Lasgalen, or something had befallen him.

He glanced at Gimli again and noted the dwarf was chewing one his beard, a sure sign of the level of agitation Gimli felt.

Turning his eyes forward once more, Aragorn urged greater speed from Halruin. By his calculations, they could be at the Elvenking's Halls in less than three days. Moroch matched the change of pace easily, snorting in delight and challenging Halruin to greater speed.

— ~ —

Halruinis Aragorn's elvish-bred, red chestnut stallion, a gift from his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. Name is Sindarin for ' _tall red flame' ._

Moroch is Gimli's second horse, bearing the same name as his first (it was a good solid elvish name after all, why would the dwarf think of a new one?) This small dark brown horse as was its predecessor was also a gift from Eomer. Name is Sindarin for ' _dark horse'._

We know Aragorn had at least two daughters from canon, but their names and birthdates are unknown. I have taken the liberty of assuming Eldarion was the firstborn. He is twenty in this story. Merilin is thirteen. Her name means nightingale and is a nod towards both Luthien and Aragorn's mistakenly calling Arwen Tinúviel at their first meeting. Glassiel is eight and has taken a shine to Legolas.


	10. Eight: A Matter of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY APOLOGIES! IT WAS BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION THAT CHAPTER FOUR WAS POSTED TWICE AS FOUR AND FIVE. OOPS! IT IS NOW CORRECTED AND FIVE IS POSTED. 

**Eight**

__**Small Village Northwest of the Elvenking's halls**   
**15 Lothron, Year 29 F.A.**   


Evening had long fallen, and once again, Torel found himself at the Twisted Twig. It was a full house this night, loud and boisterous. He sighed and leaned back in the rickety chair as he watched the five other men seated at their table. They spoke little as they downed their ale. All of them looked as he felt: exhausted.

Torel glanced at Prem and caught his eye for a moment. His friend inclined his head ever so slightly in acquiescence, the silent communication undetected by the other four men around them.

Clearing his throat, Torel got Brigus' attention. "I don't think we should go back, Brigus."

Brigus eyes narrowed at him. Torel had not expected his older brother to give up, but neither could he continue in this foolishness.

"And why not?" Brigus asked. He glanced warily about, but no one was paying any attention to their table. "There're no elves in the forest, or we would've seen them by now. There is no danger, so it is only a matter of time before we find it."

It was true. They had found no sign of any one or any thing. Only endless leagues of trees. There was not even any sign of any dwellings in the trees, and his Pa had said the elves that didn't live in the Halls lived in tree houses of some kind. But if that were so, either they had lived more to the south or they had dismantled their dwellings before leaving.

"But we haven't found any sign of their dwellings, no trace of where their king's halls were— It's a waste of time, Brigus. We should return to work and accept that we'll never be rich." Torel met Brigus eyes evenly, aware of the agitation he was stirring in a couple of the men.

He expected Brigus to lash out at him for that remark. He knew how much his brother hated working the fields. Even before their Pa had died, Brigus had grumbled about the work and would disappear at times into town, leaving the work to Torel and their Pa. It had caused their parents much grief.

But Brigus turned in anger to Prem instead. "You put him up to this, boy? Fill his head with how we're fools?"

Prem paled, but held his ground. "We talked about the fact we're losing money searching for something that might not be there, yeah. Almost a week we've been in the forest, and all we've seen is trees. Pretty and all, but I have chores at home. Ma and Pa gonna lecture me to no end when I finally show back up."

Sirk snorted. "Should never have included these babies, Brigus. Barely off their mommas' breasts they are. It's men that will find that there treasure."

Anger flared in Torel's chest. Always Brigus and his friends treated him as if he were still a child, when he was the one supporting his Ma and taking care of what was left of their farm! He pushed back his chair so fast it tilted over as he stood. He heard the crack against the wood floor.

"I am no boy! I was twenty last moon!"

"Don't make you a man, boy," Jasper rasped. "Bet you've never even bedded a girl yet."

Torel's face flushed again. "I have a girl," he grumbled.

"But you ain't bedded her, have you now?"

That was no one's business but his own. Torel started to move towards the older man, but Prem grabbed his sleeve and shook his head. "Sit down, Torel," he murmured. "It ain't worth it."

The other men just smirked, and Torel felt his face burn hotter. His outburst hadn't impressed them. But Prem's check had probably saved him from a pretty sound beating. Jasper wasn't one to start a brawl with. They had heard the man had killed three men in a tavern fight in another town before joining their group.

Instead, Torel swallowed his ire, righted his chair and slumped back into it. "I still don't think we're going to find anything."

"We started this together," Nirk said, "and no one's backing out now. Can't have you tellin' others what we're doing, or trying to claim a share after we find the treasure!"

Brigus nodded. "No one's backing out. My brother's just upset we haven't found anything yet. We'll go in again tomorrow. I've gotten a good feel for those woods now. We just need to replenish our supplies."

"Why don't we just go around and take the elf path from Laketown?" Prem asked.

Torel blinked at the idea. Why hadn't they thought of that before?

"Takes too much time!" Brigus barked. "All we gotta do is head southeast and we'll find that path."

"Unless the elves left some kind of enchantment to prevent anyone from finding it," Prem said.

Jasper snorted. "You really are just a boy if you believe in those fairy stories."

Prem said nothing. Just sat back without any return barb at the man. Torel never could understand how Prem didn't let words like that bother him. But Prem didn't have an older brother that had taunted him as long as he could remember either. Prem only had sisters.

Brigus continued. "We'll find that path and from there it'll be easy to find the King's Halls. Now, let's finish our drinks and be off. We'll leave at dawn."

Torel felt his hope surge again at the thought of finding that path. That was the key. If they didn't find it heading south, then maybe he could convince the men to try Prem's suggestion and head to Laketown. From there, they could easily find the halls and discover if there really was anything worth taking from them.

If not, Torel would go home. He had Dell waiting for him.

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Request: If you are reading this, can you please leave a short review so I know? It means a lot to me! Of course, feedback is also appreciated. Thank you!**

**NOTE: MY APOLOGIES! IT WAS BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION THAT CHAPTER FOUR WAS POSTED TWICE AS FOUR AND FIVE. OOPS! IT IS NOW CORRECTED AND FIVE IS POSTED.**


	11. Ten: Time Grows Short

**Ten**

_**Eryn Lasgalen** _

_**18 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age** _

Legolas had been led on a strange trek, following the haunting sound of Rani's song. Sometimes he would come across her, and they would carry on another confusing conversation. More often, he would just hear childish laughter or soft singing, and he followed the sound without ever seeing her. On occasion, he found another woven grass or flower chain in a clearing.

The previous day there had been no sign of her, so Legolas had settled on a wide branch and spent the night singing to the stars above, trying to drown out the ever present sea-song in his heart.

A piercing sound roused him from what rest he could find, its sharp, clear note well known. He sat up, heart racing. The sound was not native to the woods of his birth, nor had he actually heard it with his ears. It was the sound that echoed through his memory, never releasing its hold on his heart: the cry of a gull.

Legolas took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It had been a while since he had experienced such a vivid memory of that day in Pelargir when he had first heard the cry of the gulls. The sea longing was bittersweet in nature, calling, luring, beckoning him to follow. Relentless!

Legolas shook it off every time. He would not, _**could not**_ sail West yet, and so he lived as one torn, always longing for something he could not yet attain, yearning to step foot on distant green shores. But at the same time he disdained it, for to heed it would cost him the friendships he cherished most.

Neither the trees nor the stars could comfort him. It was as Galadriel had foreseen. Once he had heard the gulls, his heart was ensnared by something against which he could not fight, and yet he wrestled with it daily.

This time was no different. He knew why the sea's call grew stronger. With his family gone, he had few ties left holding him here. But he fought it nonetheless, refusing to give in to the sweet song of waves crashing and gulls crying.

The sun was just rising when he heard Rani's soft song join the chorus of dawn birdsong. The melody haunted him, unlike anything he had ever heard before. The words he could not understand. When he had asked her what language it was, she refused to tell him, saying it was her song and hers alone. Such a strange child…

If she was just a child; Legolas was not certain. He was certain, however, that he was being driven to some task, some purpose he had yet discovered. Regardless, he could not just head home not knowing why Rani taunted and teased him, leading him onwards. He had not failed to noticed she led him on a direct route through the trees. She moved with purpose.

Standing, Legolas followed the sad song through the branches, pausing at the edge of a small opening in the trees. Seated in the grass of a small meadow was Rani, long grasses trailing from her fingers as she wove them into a pattern. A finished chain complete with flowers encircled her golden head, which was bowed over her work.

Legolas smiled at the innocent picture the child made, and lowered himself to lean against a tree, watching her work. After a time, she lifted her head and smiled at him. He returned the smile, which earned him a small giggle.

Rani dropped the chain she had been weaving and skipped over to him. She stood studying him carefully for several moments, her deep blue eyes twinkling. Her head tilted to the side, and the tip of her tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth as if she were in deep thought.

The manner of the innocent child changed. She reached out a hand and brushed her fingers across Legolas' cheek, much in the manner his mother once had done. "You are very handsome," she said, stroking Legolas's cheek.

Her fingers dropped to smooth his golden hair, a mothering gesture Legolas had experienced many times at the hands of Arwen's little girl, Glassiel. With a smile, Legolas joined the game, reaching up a hand to her cheek.

"And you are very beautiful, my lady. What a pretty dress you have! And your crown shines almost as brightly as your eyes." His playful flattery brought forth bubbles of giggles, and she plopped down into his lap, her back against his chest. As she snuggled in, Legolas reached up and tucked several strands of light golden silk behind her pointed ears.

He had a sudden longing for Ascarnen and Gondor, for at times Rani reminded Legolas of Glassiel, Aragorn's youngest daughter. Glassiel was fond of inviting the Lord of Ascarnen to her tea parties, and Legolas could never refuse her little girl games. Often, he felt wistful whenever he indulged her latest fancy.

Legolas had never had a younger sister, and as he had never bound himself to another, he had no children of his own. No amount of ribbing from his dwarven friend would keep him from playing with the little Glassiel, and he had even managed to include Gimli from time to time.

He decided that when he returned to Gondor he would spend afternoon with Aragorn's daughters.

But first, he needed to discover why he was still here. He felt certain it had to do with this mysterious child alone in the wood, for how could he leave her here alone. Until he solved his mystery, he could not leave.

"Did your family decide not to sail, little one? Is that why you are here?" His words were soft, compassionate. She turned and looked up at him with sad eyes, and for a moment he expected her to tell him her parents were dead. He did not know why he felt that, but he waited, expecting her to speak.

Instead, Rani blinked and scrambled up from his lap, her brow creasing into a small frown. She faced northwest, and she cocked her head as if listening for something. She looked back at Legolas before she spoke.

"I have to go. Time grows short." She edged away from him, looking back to the north.

"Time for what, child?" He stood, peering into the trees. He could sense nothing amiss in the near vicinity. The trees issued no alarms.

"Remain here. I will return soon." She took a step away, then turned back, uncertainty on her face.

"Rani?"

"Stay," she whispered, her eyes pleading.

He nodded, and glanced back to the north, unsurprised that when he looked back, she was gone.

— ~ —

_**Mid day…** _

Lancaeriel hummed as she groomed one of her geldings. The two horses had been a gift from Besoneth, one she had felt guilty for taking, since she had no intention of going to Imladris. But she was glad of the company.

The bay gelding she had named Dinnif flexed his head back to where she was brushing his withers and nosed at her, looking for possible treats. She stopped to scratch his cheek. "No treats today." She laughed at his sad expression. "I ate the last of the parsnips this morning. Perhaps we shall find some more today." He sighed and turned back to napping as she continued brushing.

She worked quickly, using a carved wooden comb to detangle the long black mane and tail, then finished by picking out the horse's hooves. They were getting long in the toe, beginning to split and crack. Their state concerned her. She only knew the very basics of horse care, having never owned one before being gifted with Naurun and Dinnif. According to Besoneth, she did not need to know more than that, as there would be smiths who knew how to do such things at both the Halls and in Imladris. At the time, she had not given it too much thought, assuming the hooves wore down naturally. But now…

A quick check revealed Naurun's hooves were in the same sad state.

Nothing about living alone was turning out as she had hoped. It was peaceful, for certain, but quiet. While she had spent much time alone over the past years, she had always has Besoneth to talk to when she felt the urge. Now she only had the horses' ears, and while they listened patiently, she feared even they considered her a fool. And they could not speak back, not in the manner she longed to hear.

Food was no problem. The forest was bountiful in its stores, and she had learned from an early age how to glean its offerings. Her people were mostly gatherers, forest folk who lived on the bounty of the forest and making due with what it presented. Even during the dark days, they had made use of the spiders that had infested the wood, using their silk to weave into cloth, and feasting on the spiders themselves.*

What she had failed to take into account was her lack of knowledge in several key areas, the horses only being one. She had not had much success with tanning hides. While her clothing would last for a time, she knew she would have to replace it eventually as it wore out, but knowing how to sew did not help her if she did not know how to tan the hides into usable leather! And trading was not an option with her people gone.

"I could trade for cloth," she mused aloud. A journey to Laketown would not be impossible. But a lone elven woman travelling might look suspicious to the Men of the Lake. Word would have spread that the elves had left these lands, with the Elvenking no longer trading with the Master.

"But I could go anyway," she told Naurun. He eyed her doubtfully, and she ruffled his flaxen forelock, before pulling out the boar bristle brush and running it over his burnished red coat. When in motion, he looked like a creature on fire, thus his name.

"Go where?" a small voice asked.

Lancaeriel gasped, dropping her brush as she spun to find Rani standing a few feet away.

"Rani! Where did you come from?"

"There," the child pointed southeast.

"Is your friend still with you?" she asked, stooping to pick up her brush and continued brushing her horse. She was not truly interested in the friend Rani had mentioned. He must be from Ithilien, based on what Rani had said, but why he was in Eryn Lasgalen confused her. Of course, he could have come to say goodbye to those in the Halls, but they had left over a moon ago! And she had no interest in Ithilien, so far from her home.

"Yes, he is here. And you must come with us, please?"

Lancaeriel glanced at the child, annoyed at the tone of command in that voice, despite the plea. Her resolve filled her once again. She could find a way to stay here! Laketown would have men who knew how to trim her horses' hooves. She could trade with them for the service, just as she could trade for other items she might need. She might even meet some of the women with whom she could converse. She could make this work!

"Please, Caeri! You should not be alone. Danger is coming. Please?"

But Lancaeriel shook her head, stubborn. _If_ she ever left it would be _her_ decision, and hers alone. She could not bring herself to fear the visions of a young child. "I am fine, Rani. I can protect myself well enough. Besides, the danger is gone. There is just you, me and your friend in this part of the forest."

"No, there are others…" Rani's voice broke off.

Lancaeriel turned to look at her, and found the girl staring in horror to the north. "Rani?"

Rani turned back to her, desperation in her small face. "Get on your horse, and ride! Ride fast!"

Confused, Lancaeriel looked again to where the child had focused. She could see nothing, sense nothing. Turning back, she found the child had once again disappeared.

"I tire of your games, Rani!" she called out. "They are not funny…." Her voice faded as the trees began to rustle in warning.

_Danger. Danger approaches._

Shocked, Lancaeriel stood in place as carved stone, her hand gripping her brush. Naurun snorted, pawing a foot as he tossed his head and rolled his eyes.

Fear filled her now, with Rani's warnings ringing in her mind. She did not know what the danger was, but she had long learned to listen to the trees. She ran to Dinnif and untied him before stepping up to a fallen log to leap onto Naurun's back. She did not know where she was going, and was leaving all her belongings behind her in the small talan above. But she needed to move.

Urged on by the trees' warnings, she pushed Naurun into a canter, calling for Dinnif to follow. But her riding experience was limited, and in the dense wood she found it difficult to keep her seat.

Naurun dodged a low hanging branch, but the end of it caught Lancaeriel just enough to unseat her. She fell to the forest floor, landing hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Her horses, full of fear of the unknown, ran on, leaving her to whatever doom came for her.

And in that moment, Lancaeriel wished she had gone to Ithilien.

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's notes:**

* A note about the woodelves eating the spiders: This plot point is taken from my story "What's For Dinner?" in which I introduced Gimli to the woodelves feasting habits. He was a bit shocked himself, but eventually caved in and learned to love the spiderlings. Ingesting insects is not uncommon in many parts of the world, and in South America they roast tarantulas and eat them like crabs. I imagine they taste similar.

My horse characters tend to take on a life of their own. I suspect these two shall as well. As such, here is a bit of information about them.

Naurun – means Fire Creature. Naurun is a chestnut gelding with a flaxen (light colored or blond) mane and tail.

Dinnif – means Gloomy Face. Dinnif is a bay gelding. A bay horse is brown to reddish brown in color on the body with black "points" (tips of ears, muzzle, lower legs, mane and tail)

**Author's Request: If you are reading this, please review! Just a few words can mean a lot to an author who spends hours at her craft. :) Thank you!**


	12. Eleven: A Mixture of Shadows And Light

**Eleven**

_**Elven King's Halls** _   
_**18 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age** _

Aragorn found it very strange to travel familiar paths with no patrols stopping them, no sound of elf song in the wood, no sense of eyes watching his every move. There was no sign of anyone as they approached the Halls. Disconcerted, he hoped at least one elf remained here for them to find. Legolas had better be here, for despite Gimli's confidence in Aragorn's abilities as a tracker, he knew he would never find Legolas in these woods if the elf did not wish to be found.

They came at last to the stone bridge spanning the river before the Gates to the Halls, and they crossed with only the sounds of their horses' hooves against the stone, both lost in their own memories of previous visits to the Elvenking's realm. Once on the other side of the river, they dismounted. Aragorn spoke quietly to Halruin, telling him to stay near the gate. As he turned to do the same with Moroch, he had to smile, for Gimli was speaking to the horse, telling him not to run off or get into trouble. Aragorn remembered a time such a thing would have been unheard of and considered teasing the dwarf, but the sight of Gimli's axe at his hip closed his mouth. He would keep his amusement to himself…at least until they found Legolas. It had been a long time since they had enjoyed some laughter at the dwarf's expense.

Gimli gave a final pat to Moroch's neck, then turned and lifted a brow at him, nodding towards the gates. Not long ago, the gates would only have opened at the command of the Thranduil or Legolas, but that was no longer true. Gimli easily pushed them open, and found a couple of torches, which he lit.

The halls were as deserted as Din had described. Once filled with laughter and song, they now echoed strangely as they walked the corridors, the red light of the torches throwing eerie shadows upon the walls.

They found no sign of Legolas in the main caverns. By all appearances, no one had been in the place for weeks.

Aragorn led the way around a bend and came to a stop at the great seal carved into a wooden double door, filling the corridor. Here should be a pair of guards, but again, all was silent and still. He glanced down at Gimli, whose puckered brow indicated the dwarf also felt the wrongness of the situation.

"I don't know why I suspected anyone to be here," Gimli said, his voice echoing in the empty tunnel. "It feels wrong to enter without being detained.

"Aye," Aragorn agreed. He had often been made to wait while one guard went to inform Legolas of his presence. But not this time. He pushed open one door and led the way into the living quarters that had once housed Thranduil's family.

There was no one there.

"Legolas?" Gimli called out, his voice carrying oddly.

There was no answer.

Aragorn exchanged a glance with Gimli, then moved through the common room to Legolas's private room. He paused then lifted his hand and knocked on the intricately carved door. His knock was met with silence.

Uncertain of what they would find within, Aragorn lifted the latch and pushed the door open. Inside, the room was empty, but they found signs that someone had been here recently.

Legolas's circlet, declaring him a prince of Eryn Lasgalen, sat on top of the elf's dressing table. Several items of clothing hung in the wardrobe and various personal items were strewn on the bed. The presence of those items proved to Aragorn that Legolas had not yet departed for Rohan and Ithilien.

By contrast, Legolas's weapons and pack were missing along with the elf.

Letting his eyes run over the room again, looking for any clues, he noticed the torchlight cast a mixture of shadows and light upon the wall. He focused for a moment on the dark shadows, his brow furrowing.

"What is it, Aragorn?" Gimli asked, and when Aragorn turned to look at the dwarf, he noticed the deep concern etched on the Gimli's face. It was a concern he shared.

"Being here reminds me of my first visit to Mirkwood when I was young." Aragorn answered. He watched in amusement as the dwarf's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

"Though I know you and the elf had been friends long before the Council, I was not aware you knew Legolas when you were just a boy." Gimli stated gruffly. "Neither you or he has mentioned that," he grumbled almost under his breath.

"Has he never told you? I have know Legolas most of my life, though my first visit here was not until I was a young man past my majority. Before that, I was not allowed to leave Imladris, at least not without the company of my brothers and we never left Eriador."

"Because of your heritage," Gimli correctly surmised.

Imladris had been a refuge for him and his mother when his father had been killed in battle with orcs. Aragorn had little memory of the man his mother had loved. He remembered that terrible night Elladan and Elrohir had brought word of Arathorn's death, but after that, his memories of his childhood were filled with laughter and joy in the Last Homely House. Elrond had been a father to him, Elladan and Elrohir his brothers. The household had doted on him, trained and prepared him for where his destiny had led him.

And then there was his friendship with Legolas.

Aragorn nodded, smiling at the memories of his childhood. "I first met Legolas when he came to Rivendell as a messenger for his father. I was only four or five years old at the time. He and my brothers had long been friends, and he remained for awhile." He smiled as he remembered that first visit. *

"He was not quite sure what to think of me at first, but we soon became fast friends."

Gimli listened with quiet fascination as Aragorn continued.

"Over the years, Legolas visited often, and I counted him as one of my closest friends and mentors. Many a lesson I learned from that elf, quite a few in fact that my tutors feared I would never learn from them. But Legolas was a patient teacher, using life and experiences to teach. Never was it boring. He made everything as fun as possible. Most of those lessons I will never forget. Many times, they have saved my life, or guided me through difficult paths."**

Gimli eyes narrowed slightly, but a small smile twitched the corners of his mouth. "You almost make it sound as if the elf were actually full of wisdom."

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed out loud at that. "You know that he is, Gimli! You just do not wish to admit it." His smile faded a moment later, as he dwelt further on the memories of his elf friend. "He was very wise, but also mischievous, playful. No matter how dark Mirkwood became, Legolas seemed to always remain bright and cheerful, as if the darkness never touched him. I know in retrospect that it did, for no one could endure what he did without being touched by it, but he rarely showed it. And even if he did speak of it, he did not dwell upon it."

The dwarf frowned at those words, a touch of sadness reaching his eyes. "I only vaguely remember him like that, early in the Quest, when he teased Gandalf about finding the sun!

"It no longer is a description that fits him." Gimli sighed heavily, looking away. "Now, though the darkness has been dispelled from his home and Arda, Legolas suffers, unable to fully enjoy that for which he fought for so many centuries." He paused, his brow wrinkling before he turned to Aragorn and said, "I would see him returned to us as you describe him, yet I fear it will not happen in either of our lifetimes, if ever."

Silently, Aragorn agreed, his heart aching within him. Though the elf still had a playful nature and at times his bright laughter filled a room, a shadow frequently darkened his eyes. Melancholy had become the elf's norm, rather than joy.

As he contemplated the changes in his friend, Aragorn studied the shadows on the walls absently. He missed the Legolas he had known as a child…the laughing teasing elf, with bright grey eyes.

A flicker of light drew Aragorn's gaze from the shadows on the walls to the light of the torch. A memory sparked, and his heart lurched.

Quietly, without thought, words whispered in Sindarin escaped his lips.

"What was that, Aragorn?" Gimli asked.

He repeated it in the Common Tongue. "Look to the sun, and the shadows fall behind you." **

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "I understand now, Gimli, what has happened to our friend, and more importantly, I think I know how to help him."

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Notes:**

*That first meeting between Legolas and Estel was told in my story Darkest Before Dawn and the developing friendship expounded upon in Never, In All My Days…

**One of the most important lessons Legolas taught Aragorn when he was young can be found in my story Instruction In Youth, and explains the proverb Aragorn quoted.

**If you are reading, PLEASE leave a review! Just a few words mean a lot! Thank you!**


	13. Twelve: Your Task

**Twelve**

**_Northwestern Eryn Lasgalen  
18 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age_ **

Legolas had followed Rani for over an hour. No longer childlike, her movements were deliberate and purposeful. She had been leading him somewhere from the beginning, but now she moved quickly, a slip of a girl sliding through the trees with effortless grace. He watched her carefully choose the path, then he followed, placing his feet exactly where she had stepped.

He had waited patiently when Rani had left him in the clearing, sitting in the grass, his fingers running over a braided grass chain. His mother had woven chains exactly the same when he was a boy. Indeed, his father's use of a crown of woodland flowers or leaves had come from his mother and her love of them. She had told him once that it was a skill passed on to her from her mother and grandmother. His sister made them as well, but Legolas had been far more interested in bows, arrows and staffs to learn to make the chains.

While he waited, his mind turned over all that had happened since he had bid his family goodbye. For that was truly when it had started, the events set into motion. Somehow it was all connected. He just could not figure out how.

Rani had appeared before him suddenly. One minute she was not there, and then he looked up and she was standing before him, her eyes wide with fear.

"You must come with me," she pleaded, her voice desperate. "I will take you to where you need to go. We must go quickly, time grows short."

"Time for what, child? What is it that I must do?" Legolas asked her, his eyes searching hers for some clue as to what was happening, what danger they faced. He could sense no danger in the near vicinity.

Rani looked at him with pleading eyes, "Please! We must go! It will be dangerous and you must be very careful not to get caught, but we must go now!"

Her frightened tone troubled him, and Legolas rose to his feet. He moved to follow, but her eyes strayed to his bow, quiver and pack propped against a nearby tree. The message was unmistakable. He buckled on his quiver, and slipped the pack over one shoulder. She nodded, and he followed her through the trees, northwest.

There was no conversation as they traversed, but Legolas did not mind. It had not taken long for his senses to pick up on the danger in the wood. The trees rustled in annoyance at first, echoing their brethren from further away. Something was not right in this part of the wood, and the further north they went, the more agitated the trees became.

_Danger… Beware…_

Rani stopped, frozen behind a wall of brush, her face paling. He could not yet make out distinct words, but he could hear the sound of men. She looked at him, determination written in her small face. Holding a finger to her lips, she continued on, slowly, silently.

Legolas followed until he began to make out harsh words. There seemed to be several men in the forest, and they were arguing.

Rani paused again, hidden in the tree line as a clearing opened up before them. He followed her lead, inching up to where she stood peering from behind a large oak. With long years of practice, he maneuvered to where he could see without being seen, and what he saw caused his stomach to drop.

In the clearing, six men stood arguing. One of them held the arm of a bound Silvan woman, her hands tied behind her back. She bore signs of a struggle, her clothing torn, her hair mussed and a bruise forming over her left cheekbone. Legolas took a deep breath as he fought his rising anger. Anger could be a useful tool, but this situation called more for stealth.

Glancing at Rani, he found the child looking at him with huge eyes. She swallowed and her lips began to quiver.

Almost silently she whispered, "You must save her. That is your task…for your future depends upon the outcome of this day."

Legolas reached down and drew the trembling child against him. He whispered, "Is she your mother, Rani? Is she why you are here alone?"

To his amazement, she shook her head no and pushed back to look up into his eyes. Once again, some unknown emotion flashed in the depths of her eyes, and Legolas was unsure of just what he held. She was unlike any child he had ever encountered, elf kind included.

Rani closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Legolas almost gasped. The deep blue eyes of the little girl he held had begun to softly glow, as if reflecting pure starlight.

Then she spoke once more in naught but a whisper. "She is not my mother, or any relation to me, though she is a friend. You are why I am here alone in the woods. Now, go! You must save her, or be lost."

Raised voices in front of them broke the spell between them. Legolas released Rani and stood, peering once more into the clearing as he listened to the men shout at each other. The words of some of them infuriated him and gave him purpose. He would free this woman and see her to safety.

Glancing down again, he was not surprised to find his mysterious child had disappeared once more.

— ~ —

**_Elven King's Halls_ **

Aragorn and Gimli stepped outside into the fading light of the sun. They had searched all of the Halls and found no sign of Legolas or anyone else within them. Standing before the gate, Gimli sighed. He had no clue where to start looking for their friend. Aragorn might have some idea.

"So what now? Can you track him?"

The man ran a hand over his beard and blew out a frustrated breath. "I am not certain, Gimli. There are some places I would look, places I know Legolas holds dear, but even I will be hard put to track Legolas in this wood. He was born here. He leaves no sign, unless he is mounted."

Gimli's spirit lifted. They had found no sign of the elf, but neither had they seen any sign of his mount, Daehul. If Legolas had the horse with him, Aragorn could find him, of that he was certain.

Feeling at least some measure of hope, Gimli turned his attention to his own horse. Móroch had stood patiently, waiting as Gimli had instructed. Gimli was not surprised, but it still rankled that the elf had been right about speaking to the beasts instead of treating them as dumb animals. He patted the dark brown neck, and began removing his packs and tack.

Beside him, Aragorn did the same with Halruin, then they led the horses to the river to drink before turning them loose to graze. Gimli looked up at the sky, judging the sun would be setting in an hour or so.

"When shall we start?" he asked, having a pretty good idea of what the man would say.

Aragorn also looked up, then glanced thoughtfully at a path leading alongside the river. "I will scout the area and see if I can find any sign of him before dark. But it would be unwise to set out with so little light left."

"Perhaps Legolas will return before dawn and we will have no need to search the forest for the dratted elf."

Aragorn grinned at him. "Ever the optimist, my dwarven friend. You know Legolas will never make anything that easy."

"True," he sighed, "but one can always hope."

A strange look crossed the man's face. "Indeed," he agreed, but he seemed far away when he said it.

The sound of a snort caught Gimli's attention, and he looked towards where Móroch had been contentedly grazing a few moments ago. His horse now stood alert, ears pricked towards the lengthening shadows from the sun sinking in the West. Halruin continued to graze, showing none of the signs of worry that Móroch was displaying.

Móroch then gave a high pitched whinny, turning to look at Gimli almost pleadingly. "Stay yourself, Móroch. Whatever is there can come to us." As he spoke, he fingered his axe, waiting. Halruin raised his nose and snorted towards the trees. He took two steps and lowered his head to the grass again, clearly unimpressed by whatever had Móroch so upset.

Móroch fidgeted, dancing in place, tossing his head and making rumbling sounds in his chest.

"What troubles that creature of yours?" Aragorn asked, coming to stand beside Gimli, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I know not," Gimli replied, watching his horse's antics. "Whatever it is does not seem to give Halruin any cause for concern."

As soon as he had finished saying the words, Halruin suddenly jerked his head up, ears pricked forward. He raised his nose, nostrils fluttering as he sniffed the air. Then he gave a soft whicker, shook himself and resumed grazing, completely unconcerned by whatever he had sensed.

Nearby, Móroch continued to act agitated, pawing the ground and shaking his head, all the while making the same rumbling whickering sounds. Gimli had only heard him make that sound when… Daehul appeared suddenly from the trees, slipping from the growing shadows like he was one of them.

Legolas's silver stallion looked much like his sire, Celedae. And in the same manner Celedae had befriended Gimli's first pony, Daehul had befriended Móroch. The small gelding had moved quickly to the stallion, each horse nuzzling the other, nickering softly as they greeted each other for the first time in a year.

As Gimli watched the horses with amusement, Aragorn stepped away, his eyes fixed on something beyond where Daehul had come through the trees.

"Do you see something?" Gimli asked.

"I thought I saw a flash of something in the trees. It may have been Legolas, but if he is here, then why has he not greeted us?"

"Legolas!" Gimli called out, but only the breeze answered.

"Fear not, Gimli," Aragorn reassured. "If Daehul is here, then surely Legolas is not too far away."

But Gimli had come to another conclusion. "Aragorn, if he is not nearby, and Daehul is here, how can we track the elf?"

Aragorn stared at him, then answered simply, "Most likely we cannot."

**To Be Continued** …

**Daehul** \- Legolas' large silver stallion, son of Celedae who passed away a few years prior. Daehul is Sindarin for 'Shadow Wind'. Celedae is Sindarin for 'Silver Shadow'.

**Author's request: Anyone still reading this? Please review! It means a lot to me!**


	14. Thirteen: Reason To Be Afraid

**Thirteen**

Lancaeriel was frightened. Very frightened. And she had good reason.

Falling from her horse had knocked the wind out of her and she had pain in her lower back, where she had landed on a rock. She had laid on the ground, trying to breathe, knowing she needed to move, but unable to draw a breath.

Her horses, frenzied, had run off without her.

It had taken her what felt like an eternity to be able to draw in a breath. She lay gasping for air, trying to figure out how badly she was hurt, and wondering what she would do now, when she heard the noises coming through the trees.

She had tried to still her frantic breathing, but it was too late. The men had found her. They had jerked her painfully to her feet, tied her hands behind her back and forced her to walk through the trees with them. She had tried to tell them she was injured, but the big man who seemed to be in charge of them had shouted at her to shut up and walk.

Still trying to catch her breath, hurting and sore from her fall, and frightened, she had no other choice. She limped along, half dragged through the trees until they came to a clearing, where the men stopped and began to argue.

From what she had been able to piece together as they had walked, they were in the woods, searching for something, when they had heard her horses and given chase.

Now she stood, held by one of the men, while the others argued over what to do with her…and what to do _to_ her.

She began to shake, the horror overwhelming her. What a fool she had been to remain alone, thinking she could protect herself. Now she would suffer a fate worse than death, followed by death, for their kind did not endure such a violation or the grief it evoked.

The dark-haired man, who appeared to be the leader, was shouting at the others to be quiet, to let him think. But she had heard what a couple of the men had said, what they wanted to do to her.

Lancaeriel felt ill. The pain in her lower back throbbed with every frantic heartbeat. There was no way she could escape! She could hardly breathe.

Two men were demanding they had gone without a woman long enough and fate had given them a pretty prize. Another was yelling that it was wrong. But the one who really frightened her was silent. The oldest of the bunch, he just stared at her with a dark hunger in his eyes.

The man grasping her arm was angry. He listened for only a few minutes before easing Lancaeriel towards a tree and eased her down. She started to fight, wondering if he would take advantage of her while the others argued, but he shook his head.

"Just sit here," he said, his anger directed at the others. "I won't hurt you."

With her wrists bound behind her, and her back throbbing, Lancaeriel could only sit as instructed, tears streamed down her cheeks.

The young, hazel-eyed man who had been holding her strode towards the others, lending his voice to the arguments.

"You cannot allow this Brigus! I will not stand here and let you do such a thing!" He shouted.

The other young man continued his own protests, "This is wrong, Brigus, and you know it! I will not be a part of this! We never agreed to come here to rape some innocent woman!"

Two other men began to violently protest, saying they had not found anything for all the time they had spent searching the wood. They deserved some 'payment' for the time lost. This started a whole new round of arguing, the men completely focused on each other.

Suddenly, two arms encircled her from behind, and Lancaeriel gasped. Terrified, she looked up into the face of a fair-haired elf, his grey eyes darkened in anger.

Sudden relief poured over her. This must be the one Rani had spoken about to her. He wore the weapons of a warrior of Eryn Lasgalen, but his clothing was marked with a different emblem. Rani had said he was from Ithilien.

Without a word, the strange elf lifted her to her feet.

"Come," he whispered, urging her towards the thick undergrowth in the wall of trees. She tried, but the pain in her back was not lessening. She took a step and nearly went back down. Seeing her distress, he lifted her up in his arms, turned and fled.

Their escape was not without notice. The man called Brigus had turned just in time to observe the elves slip into the underbrush. With a shout, he pointed and all six men charged after them.

With her rescuer's movement restricted by her bound form, Lancaeriel knew their chances were slim. The men chasing them drew closer, and she watched in horror, over the elf's shoulder, as the older man threw something in their direction.

A second later they both tumbled to the ground.

— ~ —

**Elvenking's Halls**

Aragorn struggled within himself. He knew it would be pointless to start a search so soon before nightfall, yet his heart bid him to find his friend. Something stirred, some premonition deep within him that he had not felt in some time.

Gimli stood beside the horses, staring off into the trees as he stroked his beard.

Aragorn knew the dwarf was frustrated. With Daehul's appearance, and no sign of Legolas, their hopes of tracking the elf were diminished. But despite his earlier remark, Aragorn did not give up hope. He would search for some sign of their friend, but it would be wise to wait for morning to begin.

His decision made, Aragorn turned to tell Gimli, when he saw another flash of white out of the corner of his eye from where he had seen the first. A feeling of apprehension filled him and he began to move towards it. Could it be Legolas was indeed close by? That he was perhaps injured or unable to answer them?

He strode purposefully through the trees and nearly tripped over his feet when a small girl in a white dress appeared from behind a tree. She looked up at him, and Aragorn caught his breath.

Her eyes… The deep blue were lit with the light of the stars.

"You must come with me," was all she said. She watched and waited as Aragorn stood in shock.

"Who are you?" he asked, knowing at first sight that the child was more than she appeared.

He had spent his life among the elves, and while elven children had an uncanny ability to appear seemingly out of thin air, their eyes did not glow with starlight. There were few left in Arda who held such light in their eyes. Aragorn had known two in his lifetime. Galadriel had sailed West with Elrond, and Glorfindel dwelled in Imladris with Elladan and Elrohir.

"You will know in time," she said, her voice grave. "But now is not that time. You must come with me."

Behind him, one of the horses whinnied. He glanced back to where he had left Gimli. Daehul was standing at alert, his ears pricked towards the northwest.

Aragorn turned back to the girl…but she was gone.

Whatever was happening here was disturbing, and Aragorn began to be concerned that Legolas was in danger from more than himself. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and waited.

"I am here," he said softly, knowing she could hear him. "What is it you wish of me?"

As suddenly as she had vanished, she reappeared from behind a tree not fifteen feet ahead of him. She stared at him a moment, then turned and looked towards the northwest, her pose not dissimilar to that of Daehul.

Then she turned back to him with that heart stopping look in her eyes. Starlight. Pure starlight filled her eyes.

"You _must_ come with me…" she repeated, catching him in her midnight gaze.

Aragorn stood transfixed for a moment, until she spoke again, pleading as she walked back to him. "Please, you must come with me. I know where your friend is…and he is in trouble."

Aragorn sighed. When was Legolas not in trouble?

He stared at the small being before him, debating within himself, then glanced back at Gimli once more. A small hand found his and he looked down, for some reason accepting what he knew he should not be seeing.

She implored him with that gaze to act, and addressed him again, her voice ethereal and light. "Yes, summon the dwarf and bring your packs and all three horses. You will need healing supplies. Then, come back and follow me. I will lead you to them."

Aragorn moved woodenly back to the dwarf, pondering why he was following the orders of such a strange being. Yet, his heart told him this was the path he should take, so he explained to Gimli in haste what he had seen.

Gimli stood frozen, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "Aragorn, where is this child?" the dwarf asked.

Aragorn pointed to where she stood in the trees, waiting for them. "She is right there before you, Gimli! Now hurry, we must move quickly. Halruin!" he summoned his horse as he lifted his saddle.

"But Aragorn?" the dwarf's voice sounded strange. "Aragorn, there is no one there…"

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's request: Please don't forget to review! Just a few words to let me know what you think and that you are reading. Thank you!**


	15. Fourteen: Outnumbered

**Fourteen**

_The ground is hard_ , was the first thought that went through Legolas's mind after he landed on it.

His second thought was to wonder how the men had brought him down, followed by immediate concern for the woman he had attempted to save. He had not been able to control his fall, but he had somehow managed not to land on top of her.

He found himself on the ground, face down, the woman off to his right. He could hear the men approaching, and he made a desperate attempt to scramble to his feet and continue his efforts at escape. His legs, however, would not cooperate.

He rolled over and found his legs were trapped with a length of crude leather attached at both ends with weighted leather pouches. It was a primitive version of the Silvan _corodhraph_ *, but still an effective tool at bringing down prey.

Or him.

He reached for the cord that had wrapped around his legs, managing to remove it just before the men reached them. There would be no running now, slipping through the trees and disappearing. Now, he would have to fight.

He stepped in front of the injured woman, noting her eyes were squeezed tight in pain or fear, perhaps both. Her breath was rapid, frantic. He reached down, not taking his eyes from the men, and gripped her arm, lifting her to her feet. She gasped, one leg nearly going out from under her again, but he needed her up and able to move if necessary. He wished he could remove her bindings, but the men were now circling him, blocking off escape routes.

It would be easiest to use his bow, but it was strapped to his back and unstrung as his plan had been stealthy escape. With several of the men holding drawn daggers, and the woman injured, he opted instead to draw his long knife. His eyes darted between the men, searching for the leader of this ragtag bunch, and finally settled on a tall, dark-haired man with brown eyes narrowed in anger at them.

"Thought you'd just take our prisoner and escape, did ya?" The man crossed his arms over his chest smugly, the dagger he held sticking out from one fist. "Not today, elf. Now we have you both, and we'll finally get what we came for." He smirked.

_What they came here for?_ Legolas had no idea of what the man referred to, but the words still angered him. They had no right to come into the woods and attack one of his people. He cast a glance about at the other men, focusing his anger on each as he caught their eye. He watched in satisfaction as several of them looked away, unable to bear his furious elven gaze.

But there was one who not only bore it, but returned the look with cold, almost dead eyes. The eldest of the group, the man was full of darkness. Legolas could feel it.

He turned his attention back to the one who had spoken. "What _did_ you come here for?"

The tall man appeared amused and rubbed his chin with the back of the hand that held the knife, the other still across his chest. "What've we come here to find? Why, treasure, of course!" The man's laugh was echoed by a couple of the other men.

"Then you are a fool," Legolas told him coolly. "You think the elves would leave their treasures here, when they have departed these lands forever? There is nothing for you here."

The man's eyes glittered in anger, then subsided as a thin smile quirked his lips "We'll see about that, elf." He turned his gaze towards the woman behind Legolas.

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "I will not allow you to harm this woman, no matter what the cost is to myself." He heard her gasp behind him, but he kept his eyes on the tall man, waiting.

"Whether she comes to harm or not is up to you, elf. Mebbe if you help us out, we'll leave her untouched."

Two of the men, identical except for a scar on one man's face, started to grumble at those words, but the man held up his hand to silence them. "What do you want more?" he asked them. "Treasure or a few minutes of pleasure? I'd rather have the treasure. Then I can buy a night with whatever woman I choose!"

That seemed to placate most of them, though Legolas noted the eldest man's eyes had yet to leave the woman. That man would not settle for a night with a whore to placate his lust. No, men such as he wanted more. Legolas had seen it before among the race of Men; those few who fed on the weak, reveling in the power of forcing another to do their will.

"I'm Brigus," the tall man stated, drawing Legolas's eyes back to the supposed leader. "Who are you, and why have you not left with the other elves?"

As Brigus spoke, several of the men began to move forward, closing the circle. One of them held a length of rope, but Legolas would allow himself to be bound.

He tilted his knife in the men's direction, while in venomous tones, he replied, "I will answer none of your questions, for our business is our own. You trespass on our land, seek to defile one of my kin and you seek things you will never find." Legolas smirked at the men, "I will tell you nothing!"

The man called Brigus and the older man stepped closer, and Legolas tensed, waiting for the attack. It came quickly, the older man and the twins brandishing knives as they advanced.

Legolas gave the woman a quick shove towards the space between the younger men who had stood uncertain in the face of the standoff. Those two were out of place with these hardened men, and she would fare best with them.

She stumbled forwards, but managed to keep her feet, lunging herself now to the opening and possible freedom from the circle.

Legolas, satisfied she was out of harm's way for the moment, fought off the efforts to disarm and restrain him. He might be outnumbered, but these men were little match for a warrior of Eryn Lasgalen! He ducked under the older man's arm and brought his blade up and around, connecting with the man's shoulder. He quickly drew the knife out again and danced away from another who lunged for him.

Brigus motioned the two younger men forward. "Torel! Prem! Help them! We can't let him escape again or we'll never find the treasure!"

The younger two men hesitated a moment, but seeing one of their own injured, they moved into the fight. They tried their best to try to grab him, but Legolas was an elusive warrior, and they were young and inexperienced in hand to hand combat. Legolas had mercy on them and danced around them just out of reach, engaging only the three older men with blades.

He lost sight of Brigus as the fight drew Legolas away from where he had shoved the woman. He needed to find a way to end this insanity and get her away from these crazed men, but their numbers were against him in that they were able to angle him away from where he had last seen her. He could not pull his eyes from the attack to locate her, but he could sense where she was.

The trees were screaming at her. _Run! Run!_

Legolas continued to elude the men, shoving away one of the younger, then blocking the arm of another with a knife, but he could not manage to get back around to where he knew the woman was.

Then as suddenly as they had attacked, it stopped.

The men pulled back, and Legolas saw Brigus with his hand upheld to get their attention. He had the woman by one arm, as he glared at them.

Legolas let his gaze slide over the other men quickly, using the respite to catch his breath and take stock of the situation.

The younger men were breathing hard, looking mostly confused. The older one Legolas had stabbed was pressing a hand to his shoulder, blood oozing through his fingers. The other two were also winded but eyeing him with hatred.

Brigus glared at him, then turned his eyes to the terrified woman he held. The man grabbed her and lifted her, swinging her easily over his shoulder. He grinned at Legolas, backing away.

Legolas's anger blazed at the man's bold move.

Then, with a slight shrug Brigus said, "It's up to you, elf. Come willingly and help us, or…" He shrugged again, bringing one hand up to caress one of the woman's legs.

Nothing could have angered Legolas more. Momentarily distracted from those surrounding him, he took a step towards Brigus…and was tackled from behind by one of the men.

He hit the ground hard and lost his grip on his dagger. It skittered across the bed of leaves and was snatched up by one of the men. Before he could roll the man off, there were several more on him, holding him down, tying his hands behind his back.

He cursed himself inwardly. His mistake had been a crucial one, and yet, it did not mean this was over. He decided to bide his time. Instead of fighting, he could cooperate, or at least seem to do so. It could buy him some time to come up with another way to get them away from these men and into the safety of the wood.

He ceased struggling and allowed the men to drag him to his feet and back to the clearing. Brigus laughed, the woman still draped across one of his shoulders.

**To Be Continued…**

**If you are reading, please leave a short review!**

**Author's Notes:**

* _Corodhraph_ – Sindarin for "ball rope"

Based on the bola, a primitive hunting tool that was used by the _gauchos_ in Argentina. They were also used in battle by the Inca armies. But the tool was not limited to use in South America. The Inuit also use a tool with three or more weights called a _Kiipooyaq_. And the _surujin_ or _suruchin_ is one of the traditional weapons of Okinawan Kobudo. It is a weapon of war.

Basically, the bola is a throwing device made up of weights on the ends of interconnected cords, designed to capture humans or animals by entangling their legs. Depending on the exact design, the thrower holds the bola either by one of the weights or in the middle of the cord(s). The weights are given momentum by the thrower swinging them and then releasing. The bola is usually used to entangle the intended target's legs, but if thrown with enough force, they have been known to break bones.

The bola used by the men in my story is a simple braided leather cord with two leather pouches weighted with stones attached at either end. My version of the Silvan elves had a much more refined tool called a _corodhraph_ , made of several strands of braided spider silk with heavy weighted balls at each end.


	16. Fifteen: Dangerous Men In The Wood

**Fifteen**

Evening was approaching as Legolas was shoved to the ground in the middle of the clearing.

Brigus dumped the woman beside him. She cried out as she landed on her back, her eyes closed, her jaw clenched tight. It was clear she was in pain, and Legolas doubted she could gain her feet with her hands bound. Brigus must have come to the same conclusion. He left her lying there without further bindings.

Then he stepped over to Legolas and looked down at him, hands on his hips as he frowned. Legolas glared back, but said nothing.

"Prem!" the man finally called, and one of the younger men approached. "Tie his legs too."

The younger man swallowed hard, but complied, tying Legolas's legs together at the ankles. Brigus checked the bindings, then with an nod, he called the men together to one side of the clearing where they could easily keep an eye on their captives as they decided what to do with them.

Legolas scooted back, closer to the woman. She lay on the ground where she had been dropped, frightened and in pain, but she did not weep. That lifted his spirits. He needed her to be level headed, not hysterical. He wished to ask her how badly she was hurt, but he felt it more important to listen to the men and try to come up with a plan. He could do nothing for her injuries at the moment in any case.

The men were back to arguing about what to do with the elves. She shuddered at some of the suggestions, and Legolas offered comfort to her in the only way he could, by placing himself between her and the men as they continued to talk.

Even as he listened, he became aware of eyes on them and scanned the trees, searching for the source. He could see nothing, yet something out there watched them. He could feel the gaze, curious, inquisitive; there was no malice in it.

The wind blew, rustling through the trees, similar in sound to waves of the sea. He closed his eyes, and willed the song aside, forcing himself to focus his attention on the men and their arguments. As he listened, several things became apparent to him.

Brigus might be the leader of the group, but he did not have complete control of the men. One of the younger men named Torel appeared to be Brigus's younger brother, and he did not agree with raping the woman or harming anyone.

The other young man, the one Brigus had called Prem, was of the same mind. But neither of the two could be a day older than Eldarion by Legolas's estimate, and neither were any match for the older, harder men of the group.

The twin brothers were named Sirk and Nirk, and they had definite opinions of what to do with them…at least to the woman. They argued ardently that they be allowed to take their pleasure before going on to the halls of the elves. It was only fair.

But what disturbed Legolas the most was the dark look in the eyes of the man he had stabbed in the shoulder. Jasper, one of the men called him, managed to bandage up his shoulder unassisted, all the while casting glances their way that made Legolas's blood run cold.

It was just after dusk when Brigus approached them with Torel at his side. It seemed they had finally come to some sort of an agreement.

The two men stopped before Legolas, and Brigus was the one to speak. "You will lead us to the halls of the elves, and she," he nodded at the woman…

Legolas did not let the man finish his words. "I will do nothing to help you if you touch her."

He paused and looked Brigus dead in the eye. "But if you do not touch her or harm her in any way, I will lead you to the King's halls and show you what I know." He held the man's eyes and watched as Brigus looked away after a few moments.

"That's more than fair, Brigus," Torel agreed softly.

Brigus turned and studied his men for a moment, then he nodded. "You'll tell me what I wanna know, and you'll lead us to the treasure. I'll keep the men from touching her, as long as you do those things."

Legolas inclined his head in agreement, but voiced one more thing. "Her bonds are causing her pain. Tie her hands in front so she can sit more comfortably, then, I will answer your questions."

Brigus stared hard at him a moment, then nodded his head at Torel. The young man moved forward and knelt beside her, easing her to a sitting position and untying her wrists. He gave her a minute to hug her arms to her chest, to wiggle her fingers and restore some feeling in them, before retying them in front of her.

She cast Legolas a grateful look, meeting his eyes for the first time, and he blinked in surprise. Her eyes were the same blue-green as the sea off the shores of Dol Amorth.

The irony was not lost on him. Only he would see the sea in the eyes of a forest maid. Gimli would be amused.

He smiled back at her, then turned back to Brigus, who still loomed above them.

"Thank you," Legolas told him.

Then the questions began. "Who are you? Why did you not leave with the others?"

Legolas blew out a breath, stalling as he scrambled for a story that would sound convincing. He would never give his true identity to these men. From beside him, he heard his fellow captive whisper so softly only another elf could hear.

"Caeri."

She had offered him her name, or a portion of her name.* That pleased him, for the less untruth he had to tell, the easier it would be to remember his story.

When he addressed Brigus again, he had pieced together a convincing and mostly accurate tale, at least for his part. He had no clue why Caeri was in this portion of the woods alone.

"My friends call me Lass, and this is Caeri. Our family departed, but we did not wish to go West yet. I was going to Prince Legolas's realm in Ithilien, but Caeri did not wish to go."

Legolas looked dryly at the woman who managed to look at him in surprise and blush on cue. Perhaps the tale was true for her as well.

"I have been searching the woods for her for several days, as I cannot leave her here alone. There seems to be dangerous men in the wood, after all."

The last line was spoken with much sarcasm as Legolas smirked at the man, but found to his surprise Brigus had believed every word.

"And you know where the halls are?" Brigus asked. His only concern seemed to be to find elven treasure.

Legolas nodded. "I do."

"And there is treasure there?"

That gave Legolas pause. He supposed to poor men, there were things that would be of value, perhaps even considered treasure. But if they were looking for gems or gold, they would find little.

Even the thought of these men rummaging around the home in which he had been born rankled. Yet, if that was what it took to save Caeri, then he would take them there, unless he could manage their escape between here and there. And if escape proved unsuccessful in the wood, it would not elude him in the Halls. He knew those caverns like the back of his hand: every niche, every secret tunnel.

"You may find things of value there, but I do not think you will find what you seek."

Brigus smirked. "We will see what I will find. You will lead us there at daybreak."

The man did not wait for an answer, but strode off to inform the men of what had been said. There was some more arguing, but in the end, it seemed Brigus convinced the others that it was better to have a guide to the halls and the treasure than to touch Caeri.

With darkness upon them, they set up a temporary camp by laying out some blankets and lighting a fire. Legolas took the opportunity with the men scurrying about to move closer to where Caeri had managed to find a somewhat comfortable position lying on her side facing him. Her eyes were closed, but the slight movement of her head as the men bustled about gave away that she was aware of all around her.

"How badly are you hurt?" he asked softly, not wishing to draw any attention from the men.

She did not open her eyes as she answered, "I am not certain. Badly bruised, at the least. I have never fallen from a horse before."

He blinked. "A horse? You fell from a horse?" He glanced about the clearing again, but saw no animals with the men.

"Yes, I have two of them, but I am not used to riding so fast through the trees. When Rani told me to get on the horse and ride fast, that is just what I did! But a branch knocked me off, and I landed on my back and could not breathe for several minutes. And then the men caught me!" She brought her bound hands to her face, shaking her head. "I was such a fool!"

Legolas glanced back at the trees, searching for any sign of little Rani in the twilight. But if she were out there, she had made herself scarce. He focused back on his companion.

"Tell me what hurts."

She took a shuddering breath, but dropped her hands and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "Everything is a little sore, but there is a sharp pain in my lower back, just above my hip. I landed on a rock."

"Is it near your spine?" he asked, concerned. If she had injured that bone their circumstances could prove far more complicated.

But she shook her head. "No, It's more to the side, above my hip and below my ribs. It hurts terribly to move. Even laying like this is painful."

But her words caused him some relief. The area she had described could take a blunt blow of force. There was no bone there, unless she had fractured her hip, which was possible he supposed, given the way her leg kept collapsing from under her. "Is there sharp pain in your hip itself? Can you walk on it?"

"No, my hip does not hurt. It is higher. I can walk, but it hurts…a lot."

That was good news to Legolas. "If your hip does not hurt, then it is unlikely you have broken any bones."

"I broke my arm when I was a girl. This does not feel the same. It is deeper, in the muscle, probably a fist above my hip."

Legolas winced. He had once taken a blow to that area from an orc's club. He knew how painful and crippling such an injury could be, but in dire enough circumstances, it was possible to make the body do what it did not wish to do. He was no healer, but in their current situation he had to draw from what he knew of his own experience.

"I have injured that area myself. I think you will be fine with some rest," he told her. "Unfortunately, I am not sure you will get much. I will see if they will get my blanket from my pack for you to lie on."

Brigus grunted at his request, but complied, moving the elves closer to the fire and having Prem spread Legolas's blanket on the ground. They were given a few sips of water, but nothing to eat.

Torel took the first watch, and the rest of the men settled down around the fire, their snores soon drowning out the rustling sound of the trees. The sound annoyed Legolas, and yet he was thankful for it. The snores reminded him of Gimli, and helped him keep the faint sounds of the gulls he always heard in his heart in perspective. He would find a way out of this predicament and get back to where he belonged.

He would even welcome the angry lecture he knew would be forthcoming.

**To Be Continued…**

*In my verse, it is common for the Silvan people to shorten a longer name to a form of nick name. I am aware some people believe the elves did not do this, but I am of the opinion that elves, separated by great distance and time, would NOT have the same customs. So in regard to the use of elven nick names, I ask for some grace and creative license.

**Author's request: Please, if you are reading this story, leave a review? They keep me motivated! :)**


	17. Sixteen: A Friend

**I'm not 100% happy with this, but I'm sick of looking at it, so here ya go!**

**Sixteen**

Lancaeriel managed to find a semi comfortable position by laying on her uninjured side, facing the elf who called himself Lass. He could not be comfortable with his arms tied behind his back and legs tied at his ankles, but the men were taking no chances.

She watched as he sat, knees bent, head tilted back as he looked at the stars overhead. His loose golden hair reflected the starlight, and she found herself staring at his handsome visage. He impressed her as someone who was kind, full of honor, and judging by his skill fighting the men, a trained warrior. In a way, he reminded Lancaeriel of her brother, Anthir.

Just the thought of her dead brother made her heart ache with the loss. Anthir and she had been close friends as well as siblings. The thought of never seeing him again still brought a crippling agony to her soul.

She focused back on Lass, studying his profile in the darkness. She was sure Lass was not his full name, even as Caeri was not hers. She had once heard that the elves in other realms considered it foolish to shorten one's name. But her Silvan kin took pride in their own customs, and one of those was to shorten long names into a manageable mouthful.*

Most of her friends had simple wood names: Lothinn, Aellad, Lalfain.* But Lancaeriel's mother had named her for her blue-green eyes. 'Sea-eyes', her mother called them, and so Lancaeriel was named for something she had never seen.

Her companion, however, had a typical wood-elf name: Leaf. She would like to know more about him. Where was he from? Had he remained as she had, unwilling to leave the wood?

As she watched him, Lass glanced her way and finding her eyes on him, smiled.

Lancaeriel returned the smile, thankful she was not in this situation alone. Of course, she would not be in this situation at all, if she had only heeded Rani's warning.

Lancaeriel lowered her eyes from her fellow captive. The thought of the elfling caused her to wonder if Lass was the one the girl had spoken about. Who was he? How had he just happened to be _where_ she needed him?

She lifted her head and found his grey eyes were still on her. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

His eyes drifted to the man named Torel who had taken the first watch. The man watched them curiously, but made no move to separate them or command them to silence.

Lancaeriel appreciated his concern. "I'll live…thanks to you."

One corner of his mouth turned up, and he glanced away, almost shyly. He had spoken so boldly to the men, expressed such concern for her injury, that she found it odd for him to seem shy. She knew nothing about him, other than what his actions had spoken for him.

"How did you come to be here, to rescue me from this terrible fate?" she asked.

He looked back at her and she searched his gaze, catching a brief glimpse of a dark shadow within him. He hid it well, but she knew what she had seen. She had her own shadows that she hid.

Lass lifted his head to once more gaze at the stars. Without looking at her, he began to tell her his story.

"I live in Ithilien, but traveled here to say good bye to my family, as they chose to sail." A deep sadness emanated from him as he spoke, his pain almost tangible. "I never thought they would leave, that our people would be divided again."

"You are Sindar?" she asked, surprised for she had assumed he was Silvan as she was. She knew of none of her own people who had chosen to go West.

He nodded. "Half, from my mother, but she was the last of her kin as far as I know. My father hails from Doriath, and though he loved the wood, he and my siblings felt the need to go West.

"It was difficult for me," he continued, "as I am now the only one of my family remaining. I could not bring myself to return home to Ithilien, but lingered…taking my time saying good bye to the wood."

He sighed, his voice dropping to a bare whisper. "I will not return here again."

Lass frowned slightly, and cast a questioning glance her way, but he continued his tale without asking why she was here, much to Lancaeriel's relief. She did not feel quite ready to speak of the pain in her own heart, or her deceitfulness in staying alone in the wood.

"A couple of weeks ago, I realized there was some purpose left for me here, some task that yet needed to be completed. I headed northwest of the halls, letting my heart guide me. About a week ago, I came across an elfling, alone in the woods…" Lass trailed off in his tale, almost hesitating to continue.

Lancaeriel felt her heart begin to race. An elfling? Alone in the woods? Could it be that Rani was not here with Lass, but he had simply had a similar encounter to her own?

"Rani?" She asked quietly.

He looked at her and smiled. "Yes. An amazing child, if indeed a child she is…"

Lancaeriel had to wonder the same thing. Rani knew too much, manipulated too much to be a simple elfling.

"And what of you," he asked, his gaze demanding answers in a manner with which she was not familiar or comfortable.

Lancaeriel dropped her eyes, a sudden fear filling her heart. To tell her tale would make her vulnerable to him. She sensed he could be a friend, but she was afraid to take that step.

So she raised her head and stubbornly said nothing.

He searched her eyes curiously for a moment, but let it go, turning his eyes back to the stars as he continued speaking. "Rani told me you were her friend, so I do not need to explain the strangeness of her speech, or her ability to disappear at will. She spoke to me of a task, and led me to the clearing where the men held you, before she disappeared once more. I was to save you, without being captured…" He sighed heavily. "I failed. I am sorry."

Lancaeriel reached out, just able to touch his arm with her bound hands. When he looked down at her, she shook her head. "No, you have saved me from a horrible fate, and kept me from facing these men alone. I can never thank you enough for that. You could have escaped after we fell, but you did not."

The realization of just what he had done for her startled Lancaeriel. Here was a stranger who helped another in need, with no thought of himself. He could have been killed protecting her! Even now, he was captive because of her foolishness. And the only thing he had asked in return was her story, why she was here.

The thought shook her. She owed him for what he had sacrificed for her. In the face of such honor, she could no longer hide in her fear.

"Hesitantly, but gaining boldness as she spoke, she began to tell him her tale, of the loss of her parents, her brother… Of her deception and foolishness, all to avoid leaving the wood of her birth.

As she spoke, she found he listened patiently, his eyes filled with compassion. He listened without judging her actions, even seeming to understand her reasons for what she had done.

As she drew to the end of her story, Torel rose to wake the next man for watch duty. She was surprised to discover several hours had passed while they spoke.

"You should get some rest," Lass suggested. "Tomorrow will be difficult, and today has been almost more than you can bear."

Lancaeriel knew he spoke the truth. If she could sleep, her body would heal. And with him here, she found she could lose herself in elven dreams. She got as comfortable as possible with her hands bound.

With eyes half lidded, her last coherent thought was that had never learned his real name.

— ~ —

The moonlight that filtered through the trees provided just enough light for Gimli to make out Aragorn's tall form astride Halruin ahead of him. Gimli stared at the man as he led them at a quick pace through the trees. Gimli trusted Móroch's feet and eyes, so he held no fear of traveling by night in the forest, but he was worried about the man leading them northwest with such determination.

Aragorn did not dismount to look for signs of their friend, but rode confidently as if following something Gimli could not see.

He had no idea what had come over the king, but he was beginning to worry that Aragorn had taken a leave of his senses. Gimli looked from the man to the place just ahead of them, looking for a flicker, anything to tell him where this 'child' was that the man followed.

Gimli had been hesitant to follow some phantom through the woods. But in the end, he trusted Aragorn with his life and had followed him before after dead things…if that was what they followed now truly was. Was this really that different from the Paths of the Dead?

Gimli shuddered and reached a hand up to Moroch's warm neck. This was different because there was no elf here to assure him that all would be well, and Gimli was not certain what it was that they trailed in the dark.

_Blast that elf!_ he thought. If only Legolas had brought him along when the elf first came here, they would not be in this situation now.

But the elf had not even told him about his people sailing…and Gimli found that the thought hurt. Legolas did not keep such things from him, yet, this time, he had. Gimli found that thought…disturbing.

So now here he was, off to rescue the infuriating creature, and once more following the king of men on a mysterious path.

As if sensing his distress, Aragorn turned to look back at him. "Gimli, I know you think I am crazy, but you must trust me. I can see her. And I believe… I think I might just know who she is…"

**To Be Continued…**

**Please please please don't forget to review! *puppy eyes***

*In my verse, it is common for the Silvan people to shorten a longer name to a form of nick name. I am aware some people believe the elves did not do this, but I am of the opinion that elves, separated by great distance and time, would NOT have the same customs. So in regard to the use of elven nick names, I ask for some grace and creative license.

Lothinn: grey flower

Aellad: field pool

Lalfain: white elm


	18. Seventeen: Through The Trees

**Seventeen**

The men were stirring the following morning when Legolas roused Caeri.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, concerned as they would be required to walk for most of the day.

She stretched, winced, but managed to push herself into a sitting position. "It is bearable," she whispered, glancing at the men as they rolled out of their blankets. "It still hurts, but not as badly as yesterday."

Relief filled him at that news. He had hoped a night of rest would help her mend so she could endure the day of walking. "Do not let it show," he told her. "Let them think your pain is the same. Then they may be taken off guard if chance at escape should present itself."

She nodded, but he could see the pain still in her eyes. She was far from healed, and he would have to do his best to help her where he could.

"Get 'em up," Brigus voice came from across the clearing.

Legolas's ankles were untied, and he was hauled to his feet. He nearly collapsed from having been unable to move them much all night, but he managed to catch himself and shift his weight from leg to leg to get some feeling in them.

They were given some more water and only a slice of bread between them. Legolas had to argue for Caeri to have some sort of privacy to tend to personal needs before they began, and thankfully, the young man named Prem agreed and retrieved a blanket which he held for her. They tied a rope to one of her ankles and untied her wrists and gave her five minutes. Legolas caught her grateful glance and returned it with a half smile.

They spent the day walking, with Legolas in the lead. He tried to set a slow pace, for Caeri's sake, but he could not dawdle or the men would get agitated. He threw glances her way, to where she was walked between Prem and Torel, and tried to judge what pace she was capable of maintaining. She limped a great deal, but how much of it was show and how much was real, he could not ascertain.

Throughout the morning, he led the men through the wood, but never directly towards the Halls. He took them in large circles, waiting for a chance to escape his bonds, free Caeri and flee.

Fleeing was not his usual course of action, but in this instance, he thought the sooner they escaped and put some distance between them and the men, the better. These were no orcs, and he would prefer not to resort to killing them if possible.

The men called a halt for a short rest at mid day, passing some dried meat between them. Legolas and Caeri were again only offered water.

"Heard you elves can go days without eatin' anything," Sirk said in a snide tone. "Not wasting our food on you."

His words angered Legolas, for Caeri could use the nourishment to help her heal, but there was some truth to what Sirk said, so he let the comment pass unchallenged. He managed to snag a few edible berries along the trek and noticed Caeri doing the same. The fruit was tart but would sustain them. The men did not prevent them from eating off the trail, but turned their noses up to the tart fruit after Nirk grabbed a handful and popped them in his mouth, only to spew them out after chewing a couple of times.

"Can't imagine why they'd eat that!" he grumbled.

"Perhaps because nothing else has been offered," Caeri mumbled just loud enough for Legolas to hear.

A smile twitched his lips. It amused him that despite their situation and the amount of pain she must endure that she could make such a flippant remark. Was it possible that beneath her pain and grief lay a feisty woman with a sense of humor? He had already had a glimpse of her stubbornness the previous evening when she had at first refused to tell him her story. When she had relented, she had not gone into detail about her family, only briefly mentioned her father's death, her mother's fading and her brother's falling in that last battle against Dol Guldur after the fires had burned the wood. He had heard her heart as she spoke ashamedly of her lie to her mother's friend and her reasons for staying in the wood.

And he has seen the deep pain in her eyes that went beyond her physical injuries. He knew something of such loss himself. Had he not lost his own mother when he was yet a child? Without his grown siblings and friends to succor him, he might also have succumbed to such melancholy, for his father had withdrawn from them all for a time, unable to bear his own grief, let alone provide comfort to his youngest son.

In a way, Legolas had also lost both his parents, at least for a time. It had taken the rather reckless theft of Manuilos* and being nearly attacked by a great spider to bring his father back to him.

The crack of a branch snapping behind them broke the stillness, followed by a slight rustling sound that had not been heard by the men as they tramped and stomped and huffed and puffed. The men paused, their eyes wide, heads swinging around to look here and there, searching the trees, as it became apparent something followed them through the forest.

But the sound stopped when they did, and Legolas just managed to suppress his grin. He had heard the sound long before the branch snapped and had seen the flash of white moving through the trees at one point.

"Who is there?" shouted Nirk. "Show yourself!"

Legolas snorted.

Brigus turned on him, eyes flashing with anger. "Who follows us? Who were you with in the woods?"

"As far as _I_ know, Caeri and myself are the only elves north of the Mountains," Legolas replied. "As for what you hear, this is a forest. It is full of life. Or have you not seen the many birds and animals about us that make it their home?"

"That was no squirrel or bird," Sirk snapped.

"Could be a deer," Jasper rasped. "Or a moose."

"And moose are curious creatures," Legolas added. "I would not be surprised if one followed us on our trek. It has happened to me before." He did not mention that he was well aware that what followed them was no moose. He had felt those eyes upon them since the previous evening, and had a pretty good idea of what it was.

They continued on, but the men now threw wary glances over their shoulders as the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of leaves could be heard. Legolas ignored the sounds. What followed was no threat to him or Caeri.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Caeri stumbled and fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Legolas shoved his way past the startled men and knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was rapid. The walking was taking its toll on her injury. She needed to rest, and the herbs of a healer would not be amiss. There was nothing he could do with his own hands bound, however.

"Get up! Both of ye!" Brigus shouted, rushing over and yanking Legolas to his feet.

"She is hurt!" Legolas protested. "If you would but untie me, I could carry her…"

"And we could watch ye both slip off into the trees," Jasper said, his voice low and menacing. "No, I'll carry her."

The older man reached out and with a hand to her arm, lifted her to her feet, then swept her into his arms. Caeri cringed and began to struggle, but the man only smiled, revealing several gaps from missing teeth.

"Go on," he told her. "I like it when a woman fights back."

Legolas bristled and surged to his feet, but his own long knife was suddenly between him and Jasper. He turned to Sirk, who wielded it.

"He ain't harming her, elf. You wanted her carried? Well, there you go. Now, continue on, or we'll find ways to amuse ourselves while you watch."

A fury unlike any he had known before rose within him, but there was nothing he could do, bound as he was and weaponless, without risking harm to Caeri. So he led them on, striding more purposeful through the trees. He would rather not defile his home with the presence of these men, but it would seem his best hope for escape would be there.

He began to head in a more direct line through the trees, southeast to the Halls of the Elvenking.

— o —

When the sun sank into the West and the sky darkened, Brigus called a halt, and the men set up another camp. That night passed much like the one previous. Legolas had asked for his supplies from his pack, so that Caeri might have a decent meal, but the older men only laughed and divided the food between themselves.

Prem spoke up against it, but Torel pulled him aside.

"You heard what Sirk said. The elves can go a long time without food. But we can't! And we're almost out!" He threw a troubled look at the elves, then turned back to his friend. "Besides, they're just elves, not Men."

"You're starting to sound like Brigus," Prem told him before stomping off.

Brigus took Legolas's wineskin, saying he would save that for celebrating their finding the treasure, much to Legolas's chagrin. He had hoped the men would indeed pass the strong wine around. It would not take much to put them to sleep and give he and Caeri a chance to slip away unhindered.

They were again placed on his blanket just within the light of the fire. Prem volunteered to take the first watch, and the rest of the men sat close to the warmth and heated their dried meat with some of Legolas's dried vegetables in a pot of water, making a sort of stew. They used his waybread to sop up the liquid.

Legolas and Caeri were offered nothing until Prem marched over and grabbed two pieces of the bread from Nirk and, despite the other man's protests, brought them back to the elves.

"Consider that my share," Prem threw over his shoulder before sitting back against a large rock where he could keep watch over the elves.

Legolas slipped Caeri half his bread. "Put it in your pocket for the morrow," he told her.

"But you need to eat as well," she protested.

"It is as the men say," Legolas said with a smile. "I can go days without eating and still maintain my strength. But you are injured and need the nourishment."

Reluctantly, she did as he asked.

A silence settled between them then, and Legolas found he longed to break it. Too long had he been alone in the wood. In recent years., he had grown far more used to the close community of Asgarnen than the solitude of the wilds.

Caeri sat staring up at the stars, her eyes sad and full of pain.

"Tell me about your family." He had not meant to speak but the jesting of the men around the fire grated on his nerves.

She turned her face from the stars to look at him, surprise in her eyes. "But I already told you," she said.

He thought he could see a slight blush on her cheeks in the dim light.

"You told me why you stayed in the wood, and of your loss of them, but not about them. Tell me what you remember of them. Tell me of your brother."

At first she just stared at him, the horror of that loss in her gaze, and he thought she would not speak.

But then she surprised him by saying, "I loved him very much. When our parents died, he was all I had. He taught me to shoot a bow and to hunt. He even managed to teach me to throw a dagger with some accuracy. He was much like our father."

"You can handle a bow?" Legolas was not shocked, for after the Last Alliance, when two-thirds of their army had been lost before the Black Gate, it had been necessary to add many women to their numbers to defend the borders. Thranduil was not lax in those days of peace. Even prior to that war, women had been known to fight, though it had been rare.

Legolas had never known a time when women did not join the ranks of the warriors. Need was not as great as it once had been, but there had still be many among the patrols during his years leading one. His own sister could wield every weapon he himself could, though she excelled at dagger throwing and the spear. And he had heard in Lothlórien that Galadriel herself had at one time wielded sword and armor.

But among the Silvan people, custom had long been that the men were the hunters and providers for their families. They gathered the nuts, harvested the edible plants and did the cooking. The women wove the cloth, built and maintained the talain. They made the berry wine and tanned the skins to make into leather. And while most women were trained to defend themselves with dagger or spear, few he had met took any interest in wielding a bow outside those women who joined the ranks of the army.

"You sound surprised," she said with a small smile. "But then you said you were Sindar. I have heard they are not so willing to allow their women to learn such things."

"Not so!" cried Legolas with a laugh. "My sister can wield a bow with skill enough, though it does not approach my own skill. Her weapon of choice is the dagger, and she fares very well with the spear."

"No doubt she annoyed you to no end learning such things!" Caeri returned.

"Alas, she is my elder," Legolas told her. "I am the youngest of five, and my siblings had all learned the ways of the warrior long before I was allowed to hold a weapon."

"Five!" Caeri blinked at him. "There are few who have so many children, save the Elvenking himself, and he only four!"

"Nay," Legolas corrected, although he was leery of giving away his identity. Rarely had he had such open discussion with one of his people who knew him for who he was. He found he enjoyed speaking to her and wished to keep his secret a while longer, without any of the awkwardness that often came when one of the Silvan folk discovered his heritage and rank.

He also worried that if she knew, she might inadvertently alert the men to who he was and thus cause further complications. He had no desire to be held for ransom! Though Gimli would find such amusing.

"My lord king lost a son at the Black Gates," he continued with caution, speaking in a more formal manner of his family, as was custom in the court of Thranduil. "It is only four who remain to him, but you are right. Few of our kindred who dwell in Ennor have so many children.

"I have heard it said my lord king encouraged the people to replenish our numbers during the days of peace and set the example by having two sons in the years following the turn of a new age." Legolas paused, trying to be truthful without giving himself away. "His daughter and youngest son were born later.

" _My_ mother was not satisfied with just sons," he added. "She longed for a daughter and her wish was granted not long before the darkness fell upon the Mountains. I was conceived here, in the northern realm, as part of the celebration of having come to a new home and a new peace."

Caeri listened as one fascinated. "I have not heard much of the Elvenking and his family, although I did meet Princess Anoriel once." Her countenance faded. "We had taken shelter in the Halls when the scouts brought news of the orcs amassing to the south. Then the fires began."

Now it was Legolas's turn to listen. He had heard Blákári's tale of that great battle, but he had given little thought to the people who would have taken shelter in the caverns. With his brothers and fathers in the fray, Anoriel would have been left to tend the women and what few children had sought shelter there.

"We heard the battle was fierce, but in the end, they drove off the enemy. I was overjoyed, for word came that Anthir lived!" She hesitated. "But the king chose to go south, to join with Lord Celeborn and attack Dol Guldur itself!"

Her eyes flashed before she dropped them to stare at her fists clenched in her lap. "Anthir did not survive that battle."

Legolas reached out to her, his bound hands resting on hers. "I am sorry. Many did not survive the purging of evil from our home. What the king did was necessary. When I—"

He almost forgot himself and said too much, but quickly covered his lapse. "I was away from my patrol when one of the youngest was cut down by an orc blade. In all, we lost seven out of twelve. Those warriors were some of my closest friends."

She looked up at him and he could see the anger had dissipated. "I am not angry with the King. I am simply angry that my brother was taken from me." Her voice broke and she finished in a hoarse whisper. "He was all I had."

Legolas lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "Not so," he said with a smile. "You had your mother's friend, Besoneth and her family."

She gave him a watery smile. "I did, and I love them dearly, but it is not the same as family."

Legolas understood. "I know. But if you open your heart, you will find that others become as family. I have discovered that is so in Ithilien." And with that he grinned. "Why there we have friends in Men and Dwarves! Even Hobbits!"

"You have met Hobbits?" she exclaimed, the sorrow passing from her eyes and instead a light of curiosity filling them.

_Ah, now there is her true nature coming out,_ thought Legolas.

"Indeed I have! Fascinating creatures. And their children are some of the most inquisitive I have ever encountered. Why, when Samwise visited a few years ago and brought his little Ruby, she stole the hearts of all!" He chuckled as he remembered the green ribbons. "Even the Prince."

She seemed to almost laugh at that, and he found he liked the look of laughter in her eyes.

He began to regale her with stories from Gondor, and with the change to a lighter topic, Legolas began to draw her out, getting her to share her own tales of a more lighthearted manner. And over the course of their talk, he discovered that beneath the fear, pain and grief, lay a curious, compassionate and even mischievous elven maid.

"And that is how Anthir convinced my mother that the squirrel would stay," she concluded another tale, and he laughed softly, loathe to draw the attention of the Men from their rest.

"And that, _my lady_ , is what my mother would call a belly laughing tale!"

He had earlier in the discussion let the title slip out, to which she had shook her head and told him she was nobody of consequence. He had known she held no rank, of course. Nor did the lack of such rank lower her in his eyes. But he could not recall ever having such an enjoyable and honest conversation with a female who did not hold rank or title. The lower born women either flirted with him shamelessly (indeed even the titled ladies did that!) or blushed and clammed up, refusing to speak candidly with one of his rank.

At some point over the course of the evening, Legolas had begun to see Caeri as a friend. And after that first slip, he had let it slip again and again, unintentionally at first, then simply to watch her react. She had gone from reminding him she held no such title to almost getting angry with him to rolling her eyes.

Now she was starting to look amused.

She snorted. "I have told you, I am no lady! Have you spent so much time in the Court of the Elvenking that you address all females by such lofty titles? You surely must be of high birth to address a woman as such!"

That comment sobered him, and he realized he was on the brink of revealing who he truly was. "I have told you I am half Sindar, through my father" he said, "so yes, I have spent many days in the Halls and even the Court of the King. But I prefer the forests and the wind on my face to the stuffy chambers of elders who have nothing better to do than debate the cost of barrels of wine!"

He paused, seeking for some way to redirect the conversation. A crack of a twig snapping in the trees, caused them both to jerk their heads towards the sound. And that was when Legolas once again felt the eyes upon him, staring out from the dark trees.

Caeri glanced to him, uncertain. "Do you truly think that is a curious moose?" she asked.

Legolas grinned. "You have obviously never had a curious moose follow you home!"

And thus he avoided both the question and further talk of his heritage and rank.

**Many leagues southeast of the men's camp**

Aragorn watched the flames flicker from their small fire. Nearby, Gimli snored, wrapped in his cloak. The horses grazed in the small meadow, while they rested beneath the stars.

They had traveled most of the previous night before Aragorn had insisted on making a small camp and getting some rest. The reuired a few hours of sleep, as Gimli had looked ready to fall from his pony's back!

Aragorn had felt nearly the same after their long journey north. Anxious as he was to find Legolas, he knew they needed rest if they were to be of use to their friend.

He glanced to the right, where the impatient Rani stood staring into the trees to the northwest. Could she truly be who he suspected her to be? And if so, why was she here helping Legolas?

But she only spoke in riddles and refused to answer direct questions. So he curled up in his own cloak and lay down to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn, his hand on the hilt of Andúril.

**To be continued…**

**Please review! It really helps motivate me to edit faster. :)**


	19. Eighteen: Despair and Fear

**Eighteen**

The next day was similar to the first. The men ate, giving the elves only water. Caeri, still sore and tender in her lower back, found the thought of walking again unbearable. But she would rather walk than be carried again by that foul man!

She limped along, keeping her eyes focused mainly on Lass, but she was aware of the looks she received from four of the men. Even the two younger ones cast appreciative looks upon her, but the older four's gazes were filled with lust.

For now, at least, they abided by Brigus's demands that she not be touched, but as the day bore on, as she grew tired and it became difficult to force herself to put one foot in front of the other. Crude, whispered comments began to accompany the dark stares directed at her.

How long would these men refrain from attacking her? Just the thought nearly caused her to trip and fall, but she caught herself and continued on.

Jasper, in particular, took every opportunity to treat both she and Lass cruelly.

"Go on wit' ya!" he barked, giving Lass a painful shove that sent him to his knees. "We've not got all day to prance about the woods looking at trees."

It seemed he had not forgotten the painful stab to his arm. Even now, he had trouble moving it. Both nights, during his watch, he had sat and glared at Legolas. Caeri wondered if Jasper were waiting for the chance to take revenge upon her fellow captive.

Lass, in return, kept her as far from that dark-hearted man as possible, but that was not always far enough.

When he shoved Lass to the ground a second time, she tried to reach for him, to help him up, as the fall looked painful, but found herself pulled back by Jasper's good arm.

"Oh no, darlin'," he whispered in her ear. "He don't need no help from you, but I do." Then he pressed up against her back, letting her feel him against her before releasing her.

Lass nor Brigus saw the move, but Sirk and Nirk did, and they laughed and made crude gestures. The boy, Prem, gave his friend a meaningful look, but Torel just shrugged.

They stopped mid day for a short break, and she sank to the ground in relief. Her back ached fiercely, but not as badly as she pretended it did. She remembered Lass's words to act more hurt than she felt. She hissed as she maneuvered to lay on her side, the grass a nice whisper against her cheek.

Brigus took Lass aside, leaving Sirk to guard her. He sat down behind her, and she ignored him, focusing instead on the words passing between Lass and Brigus. They argued over Lass's choice of path. Brigus was getting impatient that they had not yet seen any signs of elven settlements.

She was so tired. Her eyes slipped closed, but she jerked when a foul breath ghosted across her face, and her eyes snapped open to find Sirk leaning over her, his voice taunting her.

"You may think you're safe, but once we've got the treasure, we'll have what else we want, too." The man sneered. "That would be you."

He pulled back, looking smug, but he had underestimated an elf's hearing in saying such words.

As soon as Sirk was no longer leaning into her face, she had turned to where Lass stood and saw his head had jerked in her direction, his eyes darkened in anger.

"You will not touch her!" he hissed, storming over to where Sirk sat behind her. "I will die before I let you harm her. BRIGUS!" Lass turned to the man who stood staring at him in confusion and growing anger.

"What is this?" Brigus demanded, stomping over to where Lass now stooped beside her, his bound hands resting lightly on her arm.

"Sirk?"

Lass did not let the other man answer. "Brigus," he said in a low commanding tone, "you promised to keep your men in line, yet repeatedly they taunt and threaten Caeri. If you wish to see the hall's of the Elvenking, you will keep them under control or I will die removing as many of you from this life as I possibly can."

Caeri believed him. She could see it in his expression. Hear it in his tone. He was more than just a warrior. He had led men. Only captains spoke with such authority. She had heard them when patrols had passed through their settlement.

There was a deadly malice in his wrath, and she knew in that minute that he was quite capable of killing every man there if pushed too far.

The only reason she could fathom he had not already done so was because it would risk her safety. That thought humbled her, for the only reason he was in this situation was due to her foolishness.

Brigus stared at him a moment, then he cursed and with not a little effort dragged Sirk up and away to the other side of the clearing. They argued angrily for a time, before Brigus shoved the man towards a tree, where Sirk sank down disgruntled.

To her disconcertment, she then noticed Torel's eyes upon her and Lass, filled with contemplation. Prem spoke true, in some ways he became indeed like Brigus. She only hoped the boy would not follow in his brother's path. Gazing at him now, a determination entering his eyes, she knew their situation became more treacherous with each passing day.

"Are you alright?" Lass asked, searching her eyes for the truth.

Lancaeriel was shaken, aware of just how precarious her safety was. "Yes…though they frighten me. I fear I will not survive this. I should have left the wood when I was warned, then neither of us would be in danger."

"Do not fear, my lady. We will escape. This I swear to you. And when we do, I will take you to safety." Lass attempted to reassure her, but she felt truly afraid.

Still, she forced a smile at his having called her 'my lady' once again. "I have told you before, Lass, I am no lady! I am no one of importance anywhere. Even if we escape, I have no place to go." Her voice broke as the truth of her situation became evident. "It is clear to me now that I cannot stay here, but I have no wish to live in the mountains! And I do not know anyone in Imladris or Ithilien!"

Lass gave her a rare grin that showed dimples. But that darkness in his eyes remained. "You know me. Does that not mean something to you?"

At her nod, he continued, the smile slipping to a more serious expression. "We will escape, and then I will take you home to Ithilien. There, the land was once damaged, but we have restored much of the forests. There also, _you_ will find healing. You will be most welcome there, perhaps even happy, if you would allow yourself to befriend others once more."

She could see the truth shining in his eyes as he spoke of his home. There was still that unexplained darkness in his gaze, but for the moment, it was overshadowed by something else, perhaps some memory of those he loved in Ithilien.

Hope sprung up in Lancaeriel's heart, making her long for a chance to truly live again, to find a place and a purpose. She met his eyes with a nod and for the first time in a long time, she truly smiled.

She would go to Ithilien with this warrior and she would make the attempt to start a new life…providing they survived.

— o —

Brigus was angry. For two days they had followed the elf through the forest, seeing no sign of elves or their dwellings. And more disturbing, no sign that they were moving anywhere closer to where they wished to be.

In fact, it seemed to him, judging by the setting sun, that they traveled in large circles. The thought infuriated him.

"Stop!" He called.

The elf leading them turned around with questioning eyes, but Brigus was done with his lies and deception. "Enough of this! We've been walking for two days. We should've been there by now! You're leading us in circles!"

"Yes, we are going in circles!" the elf admitted, then added, "Or would you rather go through the traps we have set all through these woods?" Lass asked him. "You are men. You cannot travel the paths of the elves through the tree tops, therefore, we must travel more slowly, in wide circles to avoid the defenses the king has in place."

Lass smirked. "Or did you think it was magic that protected these lands for so long?"

The elf looked amused, and Brigus felt his face burn with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He had wondered over the past few weeks just how the elves kept their lands safe.

"You're lying…" Brigus knew it.

"Of course, he's lyin," Jasper grumbled. "He's just tryin to lead us round and get us more lost, lookin for a way to escape us without us getting' anything."

That comment had Sirk and Nirk jumping in to argue that the elf was misleading them, and making the same demands they had since they had found that elf woman hurt on the ground. Brigus almost wished they had never found her. She had brought them only more trouble.

With three disgruntled partners, his own frustration and the younger men's growing dissatisfaction at having found nothing, Brigus scrambled for some way to maintain control. There had to be something he could do to make the elf take them to where they wanted to go.

The only way he could conceive was to use the woman against the elf.

"I say we give him until tomorrow mid day to show us some proof he's leading us a'right, and if he fails…" He leered at his partners. "Well, then you can have the girl — or even him if you want him," he added in a last attempt to manipulate the elf. "He's pretty enough."

He smirked, even as he found he could not look the elf in the eye.

"Tomorrow, then," Jasper agreed in his hoarse voice. "And I get her first."

— o —

With the sun sinking in the West, they did not walk for much longer that evening. Even so, Legolas led them in a direct line towards one of the villages he knew to be nearby. If Brigus needed proof of elf-kind to keep his men at bay, then Legolas would provide it!

But in his heart he feared it would not matter.

An air of foreboding filled the wood after Brigus's declaration. Time, it would seem, had run out. He wished they were closer to the actual Halls, but they were still many leagues away.

He needed another plan, some opening to escape and get into the woods, but Brigus was taking no chances with them.

It was nearly dark when Brigus called the final halt. The men scrambled about setting up another simple camp. As before, the elves were given a little water. Prem brought them two pieces of dried meat, shaking off Torel's hand when his friend would have kept him back from offering the food.

Most of the men were in higher spirits, knowing soon they would have one pleasure or another. They laughed and joked, making no effort to hide their rude comments. Torel and Prem sat off to the side, but the younger men were not taking the same enjoyment at the possibility of raping Caeri on the morrow.

Just the thought infuriated Legolas.

In the dark, the men turned in, anxious to see what the new day brought them. Nirk had been sent to make certain their bindings were tight and to take first watch. He settled on a fallen log, intently studying Legolas's knife.

He and Caeri did not speak. Legolas instead worked at loosening his bonds, working them as inconspicuously as possible. He had attempted this both previous nights with little success. Sirk and Nirk were skilled in rope work. The knots held.

As he struggled against the knots, Caeri scooted over to block Nirk's view of him. She leaned in, making it appear as if they were speaking, as they had the previous evening, but she only offered encouragement this night. She knew as well as he that they had to escape.

He was tempted to get Caeri to help, despite the risk of being discovered, when the snapping of a twig brought his eyes up towards the trees. The eyes still followed them in the darkness. Two pairs. He could sense their owners and was thankful they were there.

"What was that?" Nirk demanded, standing and staring into the trees.

"Maybe one of the giant spiders," Legolas dared. "They have been known to stray this far north."

Caeri's head jerked around and she stared at him in horror. "But I thought…" Her words died as she realized too late what Legolas was trying to achieve.

"Spiders are all dead." Nirk grinned at them. "Heard it myself from a man from Laketown. Elvenking killed them all."

But he glanced nervously back through the trees. But the sounds were gone.

Nirk moved back to the fallen tree and resumed his seat but his focus did not return to the knife. Instead he focused on the trees about them, glancing between them as if trying to peer beyond the small circle of light cast by the men's fire.

For two hours, Legolas worked at continuing to loosen his bonds, but only managed to gain a small amount of give in the rope. His wrists were raw and bleeding from his efforts, yet still he struggled.

Caeri had not sat idle. She worked her own bindings, her wrists red and chaffed. Her breath shuddered and he paused to look at her. Her eyes were side and pleading.

"What do we do? We have to get loose!" Her fearful words and panicked expression pierced him. He knew only too well how desperate their situation was.

But such despair and fear would not help them. He shook his head. "We do not give up until we are free. And whatever happens, I will not abandon you." His whispered words sparked hope in her eyes, and they renewed their efforts.

A heavy sigh alerted Legolas that Nirk's watch was over. He watched the man stand then move to the fire, where he shook Torel awake for his watch.

"Watch them close," Nirk demanded. "There's something out there." He nodded towards the trees. "Even if it's just a moose, wild animals are dangerous."

Torel rose and moved to the log where Nirk had took his watch, his eyes on the forest. But he snorted and glanced at them. "There is no moose out there," he said with confidence.

Legolas did not confirm or deny what was in the shadows. Instead he held the young man's gaze for a time.

Torel finally looked away, but only to stare at Caeri, then back at Legolas. Something had changed in those eyes. They held new purpose.

As soon as Nirk began to snore softly, Torel stood up, drew his knife and moved towards them, never wavering his gaze from Legolas's cold stare.

— o —

Torel approached the elves. He had seen the fear in Caeri's face when he had stood and drawn his knife, but now as he walked towards them, he found his gaze caught in Lass's steel-gray stare.

He was drawn to those eyes. There was something about this creature that both fascinated and frightened him at the same time.

As Torel stooped before Lass, he was surprised when the elf actually smiled slightly.

"You intend to help us," Lass declared. It was not a question.

Torel smiled and nodded. "Prem's right. I let Brigus bully me into this and I've started acting like him. My mum would flay me if she knew I was here with these men, doing these things. I can't allow it to go any further."

Torel had not slept when the others had bedded down for the night. He had kept an eye on the elves and had noticed them struggling against their bonds. The knots would be too tight to untie.

He reached for the ropes binding Lass's ankles together and began to cut them with his knife. The ropes dropped away, and he reached for the ones around the elf's wrists, but a slight noise in the trees stopped him. He froze, ceasing his movements and glancing fearfully over his shoulder. It would not do to get caught at this. A couple of those men wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they found out he had let the elves escape.

But he saw no movement from the bed rolls by the fire. He turned his head to search the dark trees.

"You do not need to fear anything in the trees," Lass reassured him. "Only the men."

" I know," Torel replied. "That's why in return for freeing you, I'd like you to take Prem and me back to the edge of the wood. We can find our way from there."

"Agreed." But instead of offering his hands for Torel to finish releasing him, Lass glanced about the clearing.

"Something is not right," Lass murmured. "Release Caeri first. She must get away from this place. Then finish with my bonds."

Torel admired the honor this elf displayed and silently told himself he would never be found in such a situation again. He would go home and work his parent's farm, and convince his girl to marry him.

With his thoughts distracted as he stood to move to the female elf, he missed seeing the Lass's eyes widen in surprise.

"Behind you!" the elf hissed.

Before the young man could turn completely around, he felt a blade on his neck, biting into his flesh, slicing it open. The knife in Torel's hands dropped onto Lass he reached up to grasp at the flood of blood that flowed from his throat.

This couldn't be happening. He was going home! He had decided to do the right thing!

The arm around him released him, and he sank to the ground, struggling to breathe through his cut windpipe. As his life's blood soaked into the ground, he looked at the elf, seeing a deep sadness in those strange grey eyes.

The eyes faded to points of grey light, darkness consuming them, and he saw nothing more.

**To Be Continued…**

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	20. Nineteen: Fleeing

**Nineteen**

It happened so fast, so unexpected, that Legolas could only watch in horror as Jasper grabbed Torel from behind and sliced open his throat.

How had the man snuck up on them unaware, unseen, unheard? By the time he saw the movement and tried to warn the boy, it was too late to save Torel.

Sad as the young man's death was, Legolas had no wish to be the next victim. Even as the young man fell, Legolas grabbed the knife Torel had dropped and sliced through the ropes that bound him, no easy feat given his hands were bound.

He leapt to his feet, but the man was on him, anger driving Jasper into a murderous rage. He wielded Legolas's own elven blade, the steel flashing in the moonlight.

Legolas twisted, but could not completely avoid the strike. The sharp steel caught him across the back, slicing across his shoulder blade until it hit bone. He hissed but spun and blocked Jasper's second strike, catching the man's wrist and staring him in the eye.

Jasper sneered at him, unafraid. "Now we're even," he snarled.

The man was cold and calculating, but arrogant in regard to his abilities. Too arrogant, for with the wound Legolas had inflicted days ago, Jasper's other arm was still weak and nearly useless.

But this was no time to prove himself in a fight. Legolas knew he had only seconds before the other men were alerted of their struggle and the death of their comrade. He could feel the blood flowing from the wound on his back, but ignored the pain. It was now or never. They would escape, or they would die.

With deft fingers, trained from youth, he disarmed Jasper by applying pressure to specific points on the man's wrist. The knife dropped to the ground.

Jasper yelled out, but Legolas used the hold he had on him to pull the man close enough to slam the side of his other hand into the side of the man's neck, a move he had learned from the sons of Elrond.

Jasper went limp and sank to the ground, unconscious.

Perhaps Legolas should have used enough force to kill the man, but it was enough that they escaped into the dark.

He stooped and grabbed the knife, but as he moved to Caeri, he heard the cry of alarm from one of the men, the sounds of them scrambling from their bedrolls. He had to hurry!

He knelt before her and reached for the ropes around her ankles.

But to his surprise, she pulled away. "GO!" she told him, her voice distressed, "leave me! You have no time!"

Legolas did not blink, but gripped her leg to still her movements as the elven blade sliced like a hot knife through butter through the ropes binding her ankles. Looking up, he met her eyes even as his hands reached for the ropes around her wrists.

"NEVER! Never will I abandon one of my people! We will both return to Ithilien…or we will both die here." And with those words, Caeri's bonds fell loose.

Hauling her to her feet, Legolas turned her towards the trees with a small push. She stumbled, but he reached out and steadied her with one hand and she managed to keep her feet.

Then they were in the trees, fleeing into the night, leaving chaos behind them as they ran.

o —

For two nights and two days Aragorn and Gimli had followed their strange guide through the tall trees, heading northwest and stopping only when need arose. At least Aragorn followed her. Gimli followed blindly, trusting the man but suspicious of what he could not see nor hear.

Now, this third night, they alternated walking and trotting along through the dim trees, the horses snagging occasional mouthfuls of grass or leaves as they passed. Overhead, the half moon rose, then moved across the sky in its eternal dance with the stars. Ëarendil shone down on them, winking at Aragorn, as if urging him onwards.

They rode on. Few words were spoken between he and Gimli, but both knew the other's thoughts were on their friend and their strange guide.

_Just what trouble has Legolas managed to get himself into this time?_ Aragorn wondered.

He questioned Rani about Legolas, if he were in danger, injured, but she gave him no answer.

"You will know when you know!" she told him sternly. "Is it not enough he is in need?"

"It is enough," he answered, and pushed Halruin into a trot as the girl took off at a run through the trees.

Sometimes she ran, and they trotted behind her. Sometimes she walked, one ear turned up as if listening for something from up ahead. And when they stopped to rest at his insistence, she usually slipped away not to be seen again until they roused and remounted.

Aragorn insisted on short rest breaks, for though Rani seemed tireless, he and Gimli were not. The trip from Minas Tirith had taxed them and their horses, for they had rode hard with little rest. He could feel exhaustion bearing down on him as it had not since the Ring War. If Legolas was in need, then he would need them with some measure of strength, or so he supposed based on Rani's pleas for haste.

But he kept those breaks few and only an hour or two, just enough to allow the horses to feed and to let them seek rest enough to keep from falling asleep on their horses' backs.

The moon was now low in the sky as they rested beside a gurgling brook. The horses cropped at the long grasses growing along its banks and drank deep. Aragorn and Gimli lay on a soft bed of meadow grass, Gimli softly snoring.

Aragorn had found sleep elusive on this odd journey. He understood Legolas's need to come home and see his family, and even his need to bid farewell to the wood alone. But to remain alone here for as long as he had? And not just that, for even before he had word of the elves removing themselves, he had noticed the darkness creeping into his friend's eyes.

But what could he do about the sea? Such things were beyond his ken and even understanding. He could not change what had happened. This he had known even last year. But now he understood better just why the sea longing darkened his friend's eyes.

Legolas would never leave them, not while he and Gimli lived. Nay, it was not an inability to resist the call that caused the elf to be so melancholy of late. It was the elf's focus on the call, and his refusal to follow it, instead of looking to the sun and letting those shadows fall behind him.

Aragorn hoped he would get the chance to have a discussion with Legolas about it. But for now, he could use a little sleep.

He gazed at the stars and eventually dozed off and slept, dreaming strange dreams of blood and a flashing blade, golden hair and piercing grey eyes tinged with pain.

Then he was swallowed by a crashing wave, dragged under the swell and pulled out to sea…and all the while the gulls sang their sweet song.

"You must awaken," came Rani's voice, dragging him back from sleep. He blinked groggily, and separated himself from his cloak which had become entangled about him as he slept.

He glanced at the stars and found from their placement that he had slept for a little over an hour. Then he glanced at the girl beside him, the moonlight filtering through the trees onto her golden hair turned it almost silver.

She turned wide eyes on him, fear filling her face. "We are almost too late," she told him. "I am needed. Continue on the same course we have followed, and make haste! I must go…"

And as he watched, she turned around and simply vanished from sight.

For a moment, he just stared at the space where she had stood, then he forced himself to rise and rouse the dwarf.

Gimli grumbled as he sat up, still half asleep. "Riding through the dark in the forest," he mumbled. "Following invisible children. Mahal save me."

Gimli's annoyance was obvious in his tone, his fatigue showing in the dark circles under his eyes.

"Well?" the dwarf asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Where is she at now?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I am not sure, Gimli. She disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Gimli's confusion furrowed his brow. "She left again?"

"No, not exactly," Aragorn answered, pondering what he had seen and trying to reconcile it with what he knew. "Well, yes, I think she has, but… "

He shook his head again, knowing beyond a doubt who the child was. "She vanished…simply faded from sight, until she was no longer there."

Gimli stared at him as if he were crazy. Aragorn knew he must sound so, but he was not.

"We must go," Aragorn told him, moving to prepare the horses. "I'll explain as we ride. We are getting close."

**To be continued…**

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	21. Twenty: A Short Rest

**Twenty**

Lancaeriel ran as best she could. Her back and hip ached, but she forced herself to go on. Lass gripped her hand, his strides shortened to accommodate her but he also tugged at her hand, urging her to go faster if she could.

Within minutes, they were far into the darkness of the trees. Lass paused to listen, but there was no sound of them being pursued, only yells and clamor. The men must be trying to make sense out of what had happened before they escaped.

"Can you go on?" Lass asked, releasing her hand.

Lancaeriel nodded. They had to put that camp and the horror of it as far behind them as possible, but her eyes had not missed the blood on his tunic. He had been wounded in that short fight with Jasper, right after—

Lass began picking a more careful trail through the trees.

She followed on his heels, trying to push the image of Torel from her mind, but it haunted her.

For almost six hundred years she had lived, and in that time she had lost her whole family. And yet, she had never seen death so close. Not so violently.

Her mother had simply faded, diminishing until her spirit just left, unable to endure her grief. Her father's body had been so damaged, she had not been allowed to view it, only mourn. And Anthir had been buried with the other warriors who had fallen in the battle of Dol Guldur.

So much death, and yet she had never truly seen death: the blood, the shock, the light fading from a person's eyes…

It was horrible, what had happened. She never wanted to see such a thing again! And no matter how she tried, she was unable to stop her thoughts from going to Torel. Prem had said he was becoming like Brigus, and she had feared it was so. But in the end, Torel had shown compassion in helping them.

It had cost him his life.

How could such evil still exist in the world? Were Men no different than orcs? But no, Torel and young Prem had not been like the older men. They had been misguided perhaps, but not evil.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she reached up and brushed it away. She could not think about this now! She had to follow Lass through the dark forest, to escape a similar fate.

Lancaeriel's eyes focused on Lass's back and the dark stain of blood growing there, dripping down, leaving drops on the foliage they passed. They were leaving a trail of blood, marking their passage through the trees.

They had been on the move for at least a half hour. If he was still bleeding, he was in danger. His steps were becoming a bit unsteady. Had he slept since he had first found her captive by the men? He had eaten little in that time, giving her most of what they were given. Even water had been rationed to only a few mouthfuls a day.

He needed to stop, to allow her to staunch the blood. And they needed water.

But he did not show any signs of stopping.

She reached out and tugged at his hand. "You're bleeding badly," she whispered. "It's leaving a trail."

He paused then, glancing back at his shoulder. "I know," he told her. "But we can't stop now."

"But the trail…" she pointed at the splash of dark blood on a bush.

He winced, then began unlacing his outer tunic, grimacing as he attempted to maneuver his wounded shoulder from the heavy material. She stepped forward and assisted him, until he slipped from his arms, leaving his torso clad in a grey linen undershirt.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Help me tie this around the wound. It will help stop the blood from leaving a trail."

She used the sleeves to tie the garment around his shoulder. It did not stop the bleeding, but it absorbed it better.

"Should we not staunch the wound now?" she asked, concerned that he was losing far too much blood.

"Not yet," he told her, and pressed on, using more care in their passing so that there would be no sign to follow.

They walked another ten minutes, then he stumbled to a stop, glancing about as if he had just remembered something. He searched the darkness, looking perplexed.

And then she remembered the eyes she had sensed and the noises in the woods that had followed them the past few days. She had not heard or sensed anything in their flight from the men's camp.

"Looking for the moose?" she whispered.

He turned his head and looked at her with an expression of disbelief. "You truly thought we were being followed by a moose?" he whispered back.

Her face heated. "Something has been following us the past three days!"

He nodded, his face pale and drawn in the moonlight filtering through the branches. He was not doing well. They needed to stop.

"Indeed, but I have not sensed them since earlier this evening. Perhaps they will find us. It would be easier if they did."

Lancaeriel did not know what he was talking about. She did not ask, for he had turned back around and her eyes had come to rest on the stain seeping through his outer tunic where she had tied it.

"Lass, we need to stop."

"Just a little further," he told her. "Then you can rest."

He thought she was asking for herself! In truth, she would welcome a rest, but her concern was for him. She was about to tell him so when he pointed to a large oak towering up in the dark.

"We will stop there for a short rest. I would prefer to keep moving, but we must stop staunch the blood or the loss will be too much and I will not be able to go on."

Relieved, she followed him to the tree. It was old, it's branches thick and gnarled. He looked up at the oak. "We will be safer in its branches. Come."

Lass leapt up, grabbed a branch, and with a slight groan, managed to scramble up into the oak.

Lancaeriel followed with far less grace. Her back yet ached, though it was far better than when she had first fallen. It would be days before she was completely healed. She was certain her entire hip was black and blue and green and purple…

But she was not bleeding; he was.

Lass settled onto a thick branch, and she sat beside him, contemplating how to treat the wound. She untied his outer tunic and laid it aside.

"I wish I had some supplies," she told him. "I am not certain how to stop the bleeding without bandages or herbs."

"Cut off my shirt with the knife, then rip it into strips. You can use those to help stop the flow of blood."

Lancaeriel took his knife, using care not to cut him with it. A single cut up the back and she was able to peel the soft undershirt away from the wound. She winced as she saw it, deep and ugly and oozing blood. She pulled her gaze from the wound, and helped him ease the shirt off his arms and began to rip the linen into large strips.

Then she did as Anthir had taught her and applied pressure to the wound for several minutes. But she had nothing with which to clean and dress the wound. Even some simple plants would help clot the blood and cleanse the wound, if she could find them.

She folded a few pieces of the cloth to make a pad, then guided Lass's right hand over his left shoulder so that he could hold it in place as best he could.

"This needs more than just a bandage. I am going back down to search for moss and herbs. "

He held her gaze a moment, as if assessing whether her going were a good idea or not. But then he nodded.

"Stay near the tree, where I can see you."

She climbed down and searched the north side of the tree. There was moss! Moss would pack the wound and help cleanse it. She stuffed several handfuls into her shirt, and began to search for the wide-leafed, low growing weeds that would help clot the blood and keep the wound from festering. In the dark, it was not easy to distinguish the varieties, but she found two plants that she was certain were the right ones and plucked the leaves off each.

If only she had some water with which to rinse them! But she could hear no running stream, and a stagnant pool would be of little benefit, if she could even find one in the dark.

She climbed back up the oak and found Lass sitting as she left him, but his eyes were glazed and that darkness was in them again. He gazed off to the West, his head tilted as if he heard something she could not.

Her heart began to race. Did the Belain call to him? She did not want to lose Lass too! She reached out and pressed her fingers against his throat, feeling for his pulse, and found that it was weak, but, to her relief, steady.

The Belain would not take him from her this night!

Her breath stilled in her chest as she realized that Lass had become dear to her. She had shared with him her losses and grief. She had allowed him to see into her heart, something she had not allowed anyone to do since before Anthir had died. He was her friend, and she would be hurt if anything happened to him.

She inhaled sharply, for the thought did not comfort her. But as she sat staring at his familiar features, she realized it did not frighten her as once it had either. She wanted his friendship, and would gladly follow him to Ithilien.

But first she needed to do something about that wound.

She moved behind him and took the cloth from him. He did not stir. It was strange, the way he just sat and seemed to listen, as if he were in another place. She had never seen anything like it before.

"Lass?" She touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He did not budge nor speak.

Her heart began to pound again. "Lass!" She shook him gently, and he inhaled, then turned his head to look back at her.

"What? What is it?"

She exhaled in relief. "You were in a daze and would not answer. Have you lost too much blood?"

He stared at her a moment, then looked back to the West. "No. I was just…" He sighed. "It is nothing. I am only tired."

Stubborn. Just like Anthir. Refusing to admit when something was wrong! But he was talking now, aware. And that was good enough for her.

She began rolling the leaves between her fingers, crushing and bruising them before packing a few into the wound with some of the moss. Then she placed the rest of the moss over the wound to help absorb anymore blood, and wrapped it tight as she could with the makeshift bandages.

As she worked, Lancaeriel could not stop her mind from going over the night's events. Their attempts to escape the ropes. The feeling of hopelessness and fear. Torel's approach and offer to help them. Jasper slipping up unnoticed behind him and killing the boy.

She had thought them lost in that moment, or at least herself. But Lass had managed to disarm Jasper. And Lass had not left her. Unable to bear the thought of him being recaptured again at her expense, she had urged him to leave her, but…

He had refused, and in a manner that as she recalled it, left her shaken.

The look in his eye when he spoke of 'my people', bespoke that there was far more to him than he presented. She had already known there was more to him than what he had told her. He spoke as one high born, calling her 'my lady', even if in jest to make her smile. And he spoke with the tone of command she had heard from the captains of the patrols.

She might not be important, but Lass was special. She could feel it.

She sat back and looked at her finished work. There was a few dark spots showing up on the cloth, but it appeared the bleeding had dwindled to mere seeping. Then she moved to sit in front of him where she could see his face, and found he had retreated again to staring into the West, his eyes glazed and dark.

"Lass?"

He roused, blinking as if waking from a dream.

"The bleeding is staunched as best I can make it without needle and thread. But you need water and food as well as a good rest so it can heal."

He shook his head. "We cannot linger here. We must head south. I am fine," he tried to reassure her, but she was not fooled.

"You are not fine. You took a nasty wound, and you are tired and are in need of food and drink. I can do nothing about the latter in the darkness, but you must rest for a while at least."

"Nay, we need to stay ahead of the men!" He started to rise, but she placed a hand on his arm.

"The men could not track through these woods during the daylight hours. Do you think they will find us in the dark? We left Jasper wounded and unconscious, Torel dead! I cannot imagine they will search for us before dawn."

He rubbed his hand over his face, then looked up at her with a resigned expression. "My heart tells me you are wrong, but my mind is too muddled to argue with you." He gave her a lopsided half smile and shrugged. "Very well. The night is nearly spent in any case. We shall rest here awhile longer, but we must start moving again at dawn."

Lancaeriel picked up Lass's discarded outer tunic and helped him slip it back on over the bandage. He scooted back against the trunk, leaning his good shoulder against the aged oak, humming softly with the tree's whispering song as his eyes glazed over once more.

She settled back on the branch, picking up his knife, which she had set in the crook of a branch while bandaging his wound. She ran a finger over the smooth, white handle made of bone. It was finely crafted. Another testament that Lass was more than what he presented. The blade had only decorative markings, however, no device or emblem of a noble family.

Her eyes drifted to his tunic and came to rest on the device there: two silver oak leaves crossed. She had never seen it before, not even when she had taken refuge in Thranduil's Halls during the war when the wood had burned. She had taken note of the device of the king, for upon her collar, the Princess Anoriel had worn a single oak leaf imposed over a staff .

She shrugged. Lass was from Ithilien. He wore the green and grey colors and the sigil was probably the mark of Prince Legolas and the small fiefdom King Elessar had granted him there. Besides, in her heart she knew it would not matter who he truly was. He was her friend, and that he would remain. And in that thought she did find comfort.

**To Be Continued…**


	22. Twenty-one: Drops of Blood

**Twenty-One**

Brigus' hands shook as he wrapped Torel's body in a blanket. He was beyond _feeling_ anything. All he could _think_ about was that his little brother was dead, and it was his fault. If he'd not pushed Torel to come with them, his brother would be safe back at the farm.

He tied the blanket in place with a length of rope, then stood and walked away, letting his mind go over and over what had happened, rather than focusing on how he felt about it. And the more he thought about what had happened, the numbness inside him turned to a cold fury that filled him.

He and the others had awakened from a shout by Jasper and sounds of a struggle. Brigus had scrambled from his bedroll, nearly falling in his haste. It'd taken him a moment to realize the sounds came from where the elves had been tied, and all he'd considered was that if the elves escaped, then they'd lose any chance of finding the treasure.

The elves were free from their ropes before he could get to them. They'd fled into the dark woods, leaving him, Sirk, Nirk and Prem staring after them. Then they'd turned their attention to the two men left behind on the ground.

Jasper was alive, just unconscious. But Torel—

Brigus's heart wrenched with an unfamiliar pain as he remembered the sight of his little brother lying crumpled in a pool of his own blood. His throat had been slit!

How could this have happened? He'd just wanted to fix up the farm for Torel and their mother and be able to live a life of leisure. How difficult was that? They'd just needed to find the elves' treasure!

But instead Torel was dead on the ground, wrapped in just a blanket. Their mother would never get a chance to tell him goodbye. Torel would never bed the girl next door or marry her. _Nothing_ had gone the way it was supposed to!

Jasper stirred, groaning.

"Get up," Brigus hissed at the man. It was time he had some answers as to what'd happened to get Torel killed.

Jasper rolled over and slowly sat up, looking around the clearing in a daze. Then his eyes landed on the wrapped body of Torel. He stared at it with cold eyes, then turned and met Brigus' gaze.

"The elf did that," Jasper confirmed. "Killed him in cold blood."

"How did they get loose? Those ropes were tight!"

Jasper rubbed his head, still looking a bit dazed. Then he shrugged. "I dunno exactly. I woke up and saw Torel bending over that elf, Lass. Looked like he was cutting his bonds."

"You saying Torel set 'em loose?" Brigus asked in disbelief. He knew Torel was soft, having been coddled by their mother. He had been her baby. Brigus had tried to make him more of a man. It was why he had brought Torel along.

But Torel had argued against holding the elves captive. He'd also been against their using the woman to satisfy their lusts. It wasn't impossible that his little brother had decided to set the elves loose. As far as Brigus was concerned, it didn't matter what Torel had done. It only mattered now that Torel was dead and that was unforgivable!

"I'm saying what I saw," Jasper's voice was laced with ice. "Torel had a knife and was cutting the elves loose. I jumped up and grabbed the knife we took off the elf and ran to recapture him, but that elf…" He cursed.

"That Lass, soon as he was free, turned on your brother, took his knife and before I could do anything, he cut Torel's throat and left him to bleed out on the ground."

Brigus grit his teeth. The elf, would suffer for that!

"I managed to get to him before they could run off, and I cut him real good on his back and called for you to come help. But then the next thing I know, he's done twisted my arm and the knife fell and.."

He shook his head again. "That's all I remember." He glanced around the clearing. "I guess you didn't catch him before he escaped then?"

"No," Brigus said. "They ran into the woods."

The sound of a shovel biting into the earth broke the stillness of the night.

Prem was working by firelight to dig a hole in the ground with a small spade they had brought with them. They would have to bury Torel here in this clearing in the middle of this nasty forest. There was no way they could transport his brother's body back to their town. None of them were even sure how to return home from here.

Anger surged through Brigus again, and he clenched his fists tightly as he stared at Prem digging. Tears leaked down the boy's cheeks.

Brigus told him to stuff them. Tears were for weak men, and children. They needed to be strong now.

Looking down at Torel's wrapped body, Brigus let his guilt slip away. No, this was not his fault! He had not caused this. He had only tried to make their lives better. It was the elf that had done this, killed his brother in cold blood. Lass should have just led them to the treasure, but instead he'd plotted and led them in circles until they were lost in the wood—and killed Torel.

Brigus swore that he would find the elves and make them suffer for this. Both elves would pay for Torel's death, and pay dearly.

He glanced at the sky. Dawn was not far off, but he did not want to wait for the light.

"Sirk!" He walked over to where the twins were searching the edge of the wood with a lantern. "Did ya find anything?"

"Aye, found some blood. Trail leads into the trees."

A cold satisfaction filled Brigus as he stared at the blood on the leaves. They would find those elves and bring them back here and then the fun would begin.

"Follow it and bring them both back." He stared hard at the scar on Nirk's face. "Don't kill that murdering elf. _I_ wanna do it. It's my right."

Nirk nodded. "I might have to rough 'em up some, though, to get 'em back here."

"As long as he's alive when he gets here, I don't care what you do to him. But don't touch the girl." He glared at both men. "I want Lass alive long enough to _watch_ me take her first. Then each of you can have her as well."

Sirk and Nirk grinned. They didn't care who got the woman first, so long as they got a turn.

"After…" Brigus continued, "When we've all had our fun, even Prem over there, _then,_ I will kill the elf, just as he killed Torel." Brigus would enjoy watching the elf bleed to death…a death Torel should never have had.

Sirk and Nirk sneered, then slipped into the trees, following the trail of blood the elves had left as a guide.

— o —

When the sky began to lighten, Lancaeriel hesitated in waking Lass. He slept deeply, his head resting against the trunk of the old oak. He needed the rest, but he also needed food and water—as did she.

Her own mouth was parched, and she could not fathom going further without something to sustain them. The half sips of water she had been given over the days captive by the men were not nearly enough. Her back still ached fiercely, and she felt weak and strange, Was this how mortals felt when they were ill?

Lass showed no signs of waking. Glancing up at the graying sky, Lancaeriel decided to let him sleep a few minutes longer. She would go and find at least something for them to eat. Even some berries would be better than nothing.

She took his knife with her out of habit. Her father had taught her from youth never to go into the forest to harvest without a blade. In the grey light of predawn, she could more easily see the vegetation and made quick work of scouring the area for anything edible.

In just a few minutes, she found a few handfuls of berries on a low bush and popped half of them into her mouth. The berries were not yet ripe, and instead of sweet and tangy, they were bitter and sour. But they were food and would provide nourishment.

The rest she saved for Lass, using his knife to cut a square piece of cloth from the length of her tunic along with a narrow strip to use as a tie. She wrapped the berries up in her makeshift sack and tucked it inside her shirt before continuing her search.

Where there was one bush, there was likely another, so she cast a quick glance at the oak, then increased the area of her search. Just a few minutes longer. The food would be worth it.

She ranged in ever increasingly large circles from the oak, but kept it in sight. It was the largest tree in the area and she could easily find it again. Her search had turned up several roots and berries and a few herbs. A few more minutes and she would have the makings of a decent breakfast for them!

Then she became aware of a soft tinkling sound, its voice calling to her to come.

Water!

She limped towards the sound, thinking only of satisfying her thirst and being able to lead Lass to it when he woke. He needed to drink after losing so much blood! Then, refreshed by rest, their thirst satisfied and a little food in their bellies, and they would be able to head south and begin the long trek to Ithilien.

With a soft smile, she continued towards the luring sound.

o —

Legolas woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was that his shoulder ached. Then he noticed that the sun had risen just over the horizon. He had overslept! They had to move!

He glanced about for Caeri, but there was no sign of her in the tree. He looked around for his long knife, but it too was missing. Fear had his heart pounding and his wound throbbing as he began the slow descent from the tree to look for her.

At the bottom, he searched for any signs that the men had been here, but found none. There was nothing to indicate a struggle.

So where was she then?

He supposed she could have taken the knife for protection and slipped into the trees to tend to personal needs, and that should not take long. He hesitated calling out to her for fear the men would hear, if they had dared search the woods for them. He would wait a couple of minutes and then start looking for her.

After five minutes, he began to worry. He started to search for signs of her passing and found a small berry bush that had been stripped of its fruit.

So, she was looking for food, he supposed. Foolish, but understandable, given their lack over the past few days. He remembered her concern for him during the night, and the care she had shown in tending his wound while he had lost himself in the song of the sea. It was always worse at night, especially under the stars and even more so with him weakened and wounded.

No, he could not even rouse himself to be irritated with her for looking for sustenance, considering the state he had been in while she tended him. She had not understood that it was not so much a lack of food or water that caused him to drift. He could use water, for certain, with the amount of blood he had lost, but he could also go on for a time without it, especially since he had rested several hours.

A soft rustle came from up ahead, coming in his direction. He sighed in relief, surmising that she returned from gathering some form of breakfast for them.

But it was not Caeri that emerged from behind a tree. A knot lodged in his throat as his gaze landed instead upon little Rani.

Her eyes were filled with fear and despair. Her gold hair was mussed with twigs and leaves. In her hand, she held his white knife.

And her white dress was splattered with drops of blood.

**To Be Continued…**

**Thanks for reading! Can you please leave a short review so I know if you are enjoying the story? They really help motivate me to write faster! :)**


	23. Twenty-two: Blur of Green and Gold

**Twenty-Two**

Legolas stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the "child" standing before him. His heart pounded in his chest, making his shoulder ache fiercely. What had happened? Why was she here now? Where was Caeri?

Rani lifted teary blue eyes to his and held the knife out to him.

"Please, Legolas, you have to save Caeri. She went to find food and water, but the men found her and took her! And she's hurt!" Tears slipped down Rani's cheeks, but it was the use of his name that caught his attention. He had never told her who he was.

Extending a hand for his knife, Legolas continued to hold her in his gaze. "How do you know who I am? How did you get this?" he asked, his voice cold. He was tired of games.

Trembling, Rani backed away from him. Wide-eyed, she responded, "I-I…I just know! I… Caeri dropped the knife and the men left it. I was hiding near where she fell! Please! You must hurry!"

He stared at her a moment longer, knowing he could not take the time to push for the answers he desired now. He had to go after Caeri.

"Where?"

She pointed. "They took her from the creek, and were headed back to their camp. She was not awake. She was bleeding…"

Without another word, Legolas set off through the woods at a run, back towards the camp they had fled. He dreaded what he would find if he did not arrive in time.

If only she had not left the tree…

But he understood why she had, and would have done the same if their roles were reversed. What were the odds the men would have tracked them through the darkness?

The warmth in his shoulder answered that for him. He had left a blood trail. And he had been too worn down by lack of sleep and the song of the sea to even consider it.

_Reckless. A novice mistake!_

He pushed himself faster, the rest having done much to build up his strength. He _had_ to get there in time. Caeri was no longer a stranger needing his help, not just one of his people needing protection.

She was a friend. And he would not allow her to endure any more from those filthy men and their perverse thoughts.

Men or no, he would do whatever was necessary to get her away from them once and for all.

— o —

It had been several hours since Sirk and Nirk had gone into the woods to track the elves.

In that time, Prem had dug a hole deep enough for them to bury Torel. Brigus had lugged the body over and dumped it into the dark earth. But he hadn't know what to say. Didn't people say something memorable at funerals?

Prem had spoken instead. "I'm sorry, Torel. Sorry this happened. Sorry I didn't convince you to say home. You didn't deserve this."

No, Torel hadn't deserved any of this. And Brigus knew who was to blame. He had thought about it with every shovel full of dirt he and Prem took turns tossing on Torel's grave.

Dawn came and went, and he was getting impatient. Shouldn't the twins be back by now with the elves? If one of them was injured, they shouldn't have gotten very far.

Brigus paced in the clearing, until he finally heard the sound of someone approaching through the trees. His hand went to his knife, but he lowered it when Sirk and Nirk appeared.

Finally!

And Nirk carried a burden over one shoulder. Brigus smirked as he recognized the feminine form of the elf woman.

But where was Lass? If they had killed the elf, Brigus would be angry.

Nirk reached one of their bedrolls near the campfire, which had died down once the sun had risen. He dumped his burden upon it, and Brigus could see that she was injured. Blood covered her face from what looked like a broken nose.

"I told you not to touch her!" he growled, stomping over to the men.

Nirk glared back at him. "She fights like a harpy! Had a knife! Had to so something to get her back here."

Sirk snorted. "He didn't hit her, if that's what you're thinking, Brigus. We just tried to disarm her. Didn't come out of that unhurt ourselves, if you haven't noticed."

Brigus looked and sure enough, both men bore marks upon their arms and faces. It looked as if the woman had scratched and bit them. Nirk had a bandage on one arm. Blood seeped through it.

"Got the knife away from her," Nirk said, "but not before she cut me with it. Then she fought tooth and nail as we tried to tie her up. She slipped away and would have run off if I hadn't tackled her. She hit her face on the ground. She hasn't stirred since."

"Hmph." Brigus wasn't happy that his prize was damaged but if that was what it took to get her here, then so be it. "What about the other one?"

Sirk shrugged. "Couldn't find him. We lost the blood trail a little before dawn. Had about given up, when we found a stream. And what do you know but the woman was there!"

"But not Lass," Nirk added. "And she wouldn't tell us anything about him."

"Maybe he died from Jasper's attack?" Sirk suggested. He looked over at the older man, who lounged against their packs.

Jasper opened one eye and shook his head. "Not bad enough to kill him," he said. "Just enough to slow him down a bit. If she was at the stream, he wasn't too far away."

That angered Brigus. "You should have looked for him!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Brigus," Jasper rasped. "You got the girl. Take your anger out on her. 'Sides, Lass is sure to come back after her, and when he does, he'll be weak and easy to take out."

"No," came a soft protest.

Brigus looked down at Caeri. She had roused and stared up at them with wide eyes. Her face was swollen and the skin around her eyes was darkening.

"Oh, he's gonna die, woman. That is a given. After he killed my brother in cold blood, he is going to die. But first he's going to watch us have some fun with you."

She cringed back from him, even as confusion clouded her expression. She glanced at Jasper, shaking her head.

"Haven't enough people been hurt, Brigus?" Prem stepped forward, glancing at the woman.

"Don't do it, boy," Jasper told him. "Don't even try to stop us, or you'll find yourself in the ground with Torel."

Something about the way Jasper said that bothered Brigus, but he focused on Prem. "Sit down, Prem. If you know what's good for you, sit down and shut up."

— o —

Lancaeriel would have cursed herself, were she not in so much pain.

Why had she left the tree? Why had she taken it upon herself to find food and water?

Oh, it had seemed a good idea at the time, and even safe for the most part. She had not left sight of the tree in which Lass rested until she heard the water. Then like a fool, she had taken off through the woods to find it.

But she had little more than found it and satisfied her thirst when the men had surprised her. She had fought as well as she was able. Her back still hurt terribly and she could not bend or twist well. The two of them had managed to disarm her, but not without her inflicting damage.

She glanced at Nirk's arm. She was proud of that injury, as well as the scratches and bite marks marring his and Sirk's arms and faces. Anthir had taught her to use whatever weapons were at her disposal and she had only had her teeth and fingernails, so she had used them.

And she had almost escaped! But one of the men had tackled her to the ground. His weight had hit on the deep bruises on her back and she had collapsed in agony. Then pain had exploded in her head as her face slammed into the ground and all had gone black.

Now here she was, back where she had started. Only this time, Lass was not here to save her.

Her head ached. She could not take a breath through her nose, which she was certain was quite broken, but had to breathe through her mouth. Her face was swollen and sore. And her back continued to throb with every move, every breath.

Brigus strode over to her and looked down at her with speculation. It was as if he were trying to decide whether to violate her now or wait for Lass to show up.

Lancaeriel was not certain Lass would have even stirred yet from the tree in which he slept. It was not that long after dawn and he had been injured and exhausted.

The man turned to the wood, his brow furrowed.

"Aw, come off it, Brigus. She's awake. Get it over with. I want her."

Lancaeriel quailed and the older man laughed at her terror.

Then her deepest fears became reality as Brigus' hand began to unfasten his belt, even as he walked towards her. "Well, it's about time you paid your dues. And after this," he gestured towards the mound of bare earth. "I'm gonna take my time…and then the others will get their turn."

Lancaeriel tugged at the ropes binding her, but there was no give in them. There would be no escaping this. The humiliation, or the pain, or the death such a forced union would bestow upon her. Her kind could not endure rape. It was a violation of the very soul, an injury to the spirit.

"Brigus?" Prem's voice spoke out again. "Torel wouldn't have wanted this! He would never have wanted to see you do this thing! It is wrong! Please? I'm sorry about Torel, but…"

Prem's voice was cut off by a furious roar as Brigus spun around.

" _You're sorry?_ It wasn't your brother that was cut down in cold blood!" Brigus' face turned red in his fury. "I don't care _what_ you think, Prem. Take a turn with her or not, but the rest of us are gonna have our fun! And so help me if you interrupt again, I'll let Jasper muffle you."

Then the big man was next to her, kneeling beside her and reaching for her clothes. Lancaeriel could not breathe. This could not be happening. She wiggled back and tried to fight but with her hands bound she could do little…and then he shoved her to her back and pain exploded from her hip.

Tears seeped from her beneath her lashes when the fingers of one hand sank into her hair, his stinking breath heated her face, and his other hand moved to the ties of her tunic.

That was when it seemed a tornado whirled into the camp.

Her eyes snapped open as Brigus released her and surged to his feet in surprise.

Lancaeriel glimpsed a blur of green and gold, and realized the men were suddenly fighting furiously.

Lass had come for her.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Thanks!**


	24. Twenty-three: A Whirlwind of Vehement Fierceness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story so far, can you please review? Thanks!

**Twenty-three**

Legolas surged into the clearing, a whirlwind of vehement fierceness.

Sirk never knew what had hit him. He lay unconscious in a matter of seconds.

Attacking without hesitation or restraint, Legolas moved from Sirk, to Nirk. But that man had enough warning to prepare for the attack and Brigus had surged to his feet with a roar of rage and joined the fight.

The two men met him head on, knives flashing, fists flying, anger and hate flaring high in their eyes like a stoked flame. On the other side of the glade, Legolas caught a glimpse of Prem jumping Jasper from behind and knocking him to the ground. Grateful that in his wounded state, he would not need to fight three at once, Legolas hoped the younger man could hold his own. There was nothing he could do to help Prem at the moment.

Ducking and twisting, Legolas avoided Nirk's knife, but he felt the move rip open the wound that had just begun to close on his shoulder. He sank deep within himself to that place he delved as a warrior, the place that blocked out pain and let him fight despite it.

A blow to the shoulder from Brigus intensified the agony, and he felt blood begin to flow from the injury again. He gritted his teeth, letting the pain fuel his anger and purpose.

Even as Legolas raised his knife to block a blow from Brigus, he landed a well-placed elbow into Nirk's ribs that sent the man tumbling to the ground. He gave Brigus a shove, and the man tripped over a stone and sprawled onto his back.

But Nirk had scrambled to his feet and launched another attack. Legolas caught arm wielding the knife and twisted without mercy until the bone snapped.

Nirk screamed and retreated, holding the arm to himself. He glared at Legolas, but showed no sign of continuing the fight.

Brigus regained his feet and lunged in again, bringing his blade around and down. Legolas twisted to avoid the blow, but winced as the wound in his shoulder pulled, making him unable to complete the move. The blade bit into the flesh across Legolas's thigh, his warm blood welling up from the cut and spreading in a dark stain over the green material covering his thigh.

The man pulled back, sneering in satisfaction, "That's just the beginning, murderer!"

Legolas inhaled sharply at the new pain. With Nirk having pulled back and refusing to rejoin the fight with his broken arm, and Brigus gloating over the wound, Legolas retreated, taking respite where he could. The new wound would not help him defeat these men and he still had to deal with Jasper and possibly Sirk, if that man regained consciousness.

He fixated on the bragging Brigus, and the man's words.

_"That's just the beginning, murderer!"_

So Brigus thought _he_ had killed Torel. No wonder the man was in a frenzy. Despite Brigus's foolishness and selfishness, Legolas had seen that Brigus did care about his brother. He had strange ways of showing it, but the connection was there, vague but real, in his twisted, selfish way.

Then Brigus was moving back in, and Legolas stepped back. His leg nearly collapsed beneath him. He stumbled, and a powerful kick to his chest sent him tumbling to the ground in the dirt. He gasped, finding it difficult to breathe.

_Get up!_

His father's words echoed in his head, as they had when he had been a novice in training.

_Get up or you are dead!_

Legolas rolled to his feet, forcing his body to obey, forcing his leg to work, his shoulder to function. He fixed the dark man in his gaze and spoke, his tone that of disbelief.

"Murderer? I am no murderer! You are the one who held _us_ captive and were in the process of disgracing a lady!"

"You murdered my little brother!" Brigus screamed, pausing in his advance, his rage and grief evident in both his eyes and voice, which came out almost in a sob. "He was a good kid! All he did was speak up for you! He was trying to _help_ you!" The man's voice turned to ice. "And _you_ slit his throat!"

Behind Brigus, Legolas saw Jasper was on his feet and moving towards Prem, who was holding his ribs and backing away. Blood seeped through his fingers.

But despite the boy's wound and Jasper's advance, Prem had heard what Brigus had said.

"I don't believe it," Prem shouted. "The elf didn't do it!"

Legolas saw Brigus glance at the boy, a flash of doubt in his eye. But then he shook it off, as Jasper raised his good arm to strike at Prem again.

"Leave him be, Jasper! _He's_ not the one who needs a beating!"

Brigus turned his gaze back to Legolas, who was starting to piece together what had happened when he and Caeri had escaped last night. He watched the men with wary eyes, and when Brigus advanced, Legolas halted him in his tracks with his words.

"Never have I killed any innocent in cold blood! Nor did I kill your brother, Brigus!" he declared.

Brigus just stared at him, shaking his head.

"Your brother had honor!" Legolas continued. "Unlike you. Unlike these men!" He gestured at Jasper and Nirk. " _Jasper_ slit Torel's throat even as he moved to free us. Your brother did nothing to deserve the death bestowed upon him by that monster. Would that I had killed that vile creature behind you then!"

Brigus froze, locking eyes with Legolas. There would be no mistaking the truth in his eyes.

Brigus made no move or sound for a long moment, then a new fury burned to life in his eyes. He whirled around, eyes landing on Jasper, but that man, seeing his story unravel, lunged at Prem with his knife.

Prem jumped back, avoiding a serious blow. The knife glanced off the arm cradling his chest, making a long, but shallow cut across his forearm. Prem continued to back away from Jasper, fear and pain evident in his hazel eyes.

But he was no longer the target, for Brigus had turned on Jasper.

" _You_? You killed Torel? You murderous orc!" He lunged with remarkable speed and began to engage Jasper in a deadly dance, leaving Legolas and Prem standing on opposite sides of the fight, transfixed as the two men dueled.

Then Prem shouted, his eyes focused behind Legolas.

"Lass!"

Legolas's head whirled around, and he found Nirk was no longer cowering near the tree line with his broken arm. Instead, the man had bound the arm with a length of cloth and was moving to attack while Legolas was distracted.

With Prem's warning, Legolas managed to dodge the advancing Nirk. His fist made contact with the man's jaw, snapping his head back.

Nirk gasped, raised a hand to rub his chin, then he lunged back in, landing a kick to Legolas's wounded thigh.

The searing pain almost doubled Legolas over, but he had lived too long, fought too many battles to curl up in defeat here.

Instead, the pain lit a fury within him, focused his mind. Everything other than his enemy faded from his sight. Skill from centuries of fighting the dark creatures of Dol Guldur took over.

His pain blocked by his determination to live, Legolas attacked on pure instinct, blocking a blow with his left arm, using the impact to spin himself around, and with satisfaction, his knife sank into flesh, plunging deep into Nirk's chest, piercing the man's heart.

Even as the man fell, Legolas's vision widened back to the clearing, taking in the scene of Brigus and Jasper raging against one another. His gaze fell to the dead man at his feet, and he lamented that it had come to this.

So pointless, the death being handed out here in the cleansed wood. And all for what? Some trinkets the elves might have left behind?

Legolas stood, his chest heaving from his exertions and loss of blood. He could feel the drip from the bandage Caeri had tied around him as well as from his leg.

_Caeri!_

In the heat of battle, he had forgotten her. His eyes searched the clearing, finding she had managed to pull herself to the fallen tree and was huddled behind it. She was safe for the moment.

He looked for Sirk, finding that man still down, showing no signs of regaining consciousness. And Prem still stood transfixed at the life and death struggle in the clearing.

Brigus and Jasper landed heavy blows upon each other. They clashed, grunted, the ring of steel as knives contacted. Brigus shirt was drenched in blood from a wound Jasper had landed. Jasper had a new gash on his arm to add to the one Legolas had given him the first day.

The men fought on, oblivious to everything but each other.

Brigus was younger, in his prime, stronger of the two. But Jasper was lithe and lean and clearly far more experienced. The older man saw an opening and lunged in, knocking both of them to the ground.

They sprawled there for a moment, then Jasper pulled himself off, sneering down at the younger man.

Legolas just shook his head. Jasper's knife was buried to the hilt in Brigus's chest.

Jasper leaned forward, grinning in satisfaction. "You were gonna die before this was over anyway. Just too bad I had to kill both you and your brother before we ever found the treasure…or got to use the girl."

Prem cried out at the man's confession and lunged forward. He tackled Jasper to the ground next to Brigus, a fist landing solidly on the man's face.

Jasper screamed in rage, striking out madly and Prem went flying back, his head hitting against the rock he had sat against earlier. Then he went still.

Jasper stood snarling at the young man, then turned towards Legolas. But to Legolas's surprise, Brigus was not done yet.

Somehow, the man had regained his feet behind Jasper and removed the knife from his chest. He reached out, and wrapped an arm around Jasper's chest, pulling the man back against his own. The knife came around and up, deftly slicing the older man's throat.

Brigus released the man, who sank to the ground gurgling in the blood pouring from his throat.

_Fitting,_ Legolas thought.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and in Brigus's gaze, Legolas saw something he did not think to see: remorse.

A moment later, the tall man sank to his knees. His head tilted towards Torel's grave. He reached a hand out towards it. "Forgive me, little brother," he managed to rasp softly as he sank to the ground and breathed his last.

Legolas moved to the dark haired man, kneeling down and closing the eyes with a long fingered hand. Sorrow filled the elf's heart at such unnecessary death.

Why did such evil abide in the hearts of men? Why did they give in to such hatred and anger? What loss or hurt turned boys into men such as these?

But deep down, Legolas knew it was not just the race of Men who were capable of such violent and greedy acts. The elves also had a history that included such deeds. Had not his own grandfather fled Doriath from the sons of Fëanor?

All races were capable of such evil if they chose to walk a dark path. Each person has a choice in what they become, their actions define who they are, and each one must live with the consequences.

A sudden warning flared in his mind. Legolas spun painfully on his knees into a crouched position. Above him stood Sirk, the man he had knocked unconscious first. The man's hand was descending, a dagger aimed for Legolas's chest.

But the blow never landed.

The knife fell from loose fingers, and the man collapsed facedown on the ground, a dagger imbedded in the back of his neck, severing his spine.

Legolas lifted his eyes to see who had thrown the knife, and found Caeri standing behind the log, her eyes locked on the form of the fallen man.

Then she collapsed in a heap.

Legolas could not fathom how she had made that throw, until he remembered she had told him her brother had taught her to defend herself and to throw a dagger. She could even hunt with a bow.

He limped to her, his heart clenched in his chest as her sobs filled the clearing. He hoped the entire ordeal had not injured her soul beyond healing.

Stiffly, he knelt by her side and placed an arm around her. He drew her to his chest and let her weep.

Finally, it was over.

o —

The morning sun shone brightly down on the forest of Eryn Lasgalen, warming the air from the coolness of the late spring night. The light filtered down through the trees, glinting off of deep brown, red and silver coats.

Gimli stared ahead, trying to see what Aragorn swore was there. The girl had returned at some point after dawn, urging Aragorn that they needed to hasten. Or so the man said.

Gimli walked along as fast as his legs would take him after weeks of riding.

In their renewed haste, Móroch had stumbled and fell, banging his right knee on a log. In minutes, the brown horse had begun to favor the foreleg, and Gimli, having spent enough time with the elf and his ways with horses, had dismounted and continued on foot, worried that even without his weight, continuing might injure his horse more.

Aragorn had assured him the injury was minor. Gimli chose to walk anyway, taking no chances with his four-legged companion.

So, now he walked, following Aragorn on Halruin. Daehul and Móroch followed him obediently, yet snatching as many mouthfuls of grass as they could along the way.

The urgency of their errand was felt by all.

Daehul eyed Gimli from where he walked alongside Móroch. Gimli gave the horse a pat, and continued placing one foot in front of the other.

Gimli was tired. He walked on determinedly, but his eyes kept drifting closed against his will. He shook his head, trying to drive away the weariness.

Ahead of him, Aragorn looked more alert, yet he must be just as tired as Gimli as he chose their path through the trees.

Gimli sighed. While he trusted the man with his life, he could not help but feel skeptical about what his friend had seen.

Aragorn led them onward in the same direction they had traveled since leaving the Halls. The man's description of the child vanishing the night before disturbed Gimli greatly, as did the explanation as to just who that 'child' was.

Gimli's eyes began to drift shut again as the thoughts plagued him, bringing him to no conclusion, but lulling him closer to falling asleep on his feet.

Something nudged his arm, and Gimli snapped his eyes open, finding large, dark eyes, full of concern, upon him. Daehul stepped in front of him and stopped, lowering his head and nickering softly.

Gimli smiled and reached up to scratch the grey head. "You miss the elf, do you? Or are you just making sure I do not fall asleep on my feet?"

In answer, the large grey horse knelt before him, turning his head to look at his withers, then back at Gimli expectantly.

Gimli chuckled, "Thank you, my friend. I think I will take you up on the offer."

He crawled up on the horse's bare back, entwining his fingers in the long silver mane. Then he let his eyes close, relieved at the opportunity to rest.

From up ahead came a deep chuckle. Gimli chose to ignore it.

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story so far, can you please review? Thanks!**


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